LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 


•*7 


presented  to  the 
UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 

by 


Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frank  H.  Jellinek 


WITHIN 
AN    INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE 


DIONYSIA,  FOLLOWING  THE  JAILER  ALONG  INTERMINABLE  PASSAGES, 
THROUGH  A  VAST  VAULTED   HALL 


WITHIN 

AN  INCH  OF 

HIS  LIFE 


Translated  from  the   French  of 

EMILE   GABORIAU 


Illustrated  by 
JOHN    SLOAN 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
New  York  1913 


COPYRIGHT,  igi3,  BY 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


CONTENTS 

PART    I 
FIRE  AT  VALPINSON       .... 


PART  II 
THE  BOISCORAN  TRIAL 97 

PART  III 
COCOLEU  555 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Dionysia,  following  the  jailer  along  interminable 

passages,  through  a  vast  vaulted  hall    Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

He  stood  with  arms  crossed  on  his  chest,  before  the 

accused,  and  asked  him:  "Do  you  confess?"     88 


Jacques  drew  himself  up,  and  said:  "Sir,  avenge 

yourself" 494 

"It  was  not  my  fault,  if  the  whole  house  got  on 

fire"  .  602 


WITHIN  AN  INCH   OF   HIS 
LIFE 

FIRST    PART 
FIRE  AT  VALPINSON 
THESE  were  the  facts : — 

I. 

IN  the  night  from  the  22d  to  the  23d  of  June,  1871, 
towards  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  Paris  suburb 
of  Sauveterre,  the  principal  and  most  densely  populated 
suburbs  of  that  pretty  town,  was  startled  by  the  furious 
gallop  of  a  horse  on  its  ill-paved  streets. 

A  number  of  peaceful  citizens  rushed  to  the  win- 
dows. 

The  dark  night  allowed  these  only  to  see  a  peasant 
in  his  shirt  sleeves,  and  bareheaded,  who  belabored  a 
large  gray  mare,  on  which  he  rode  bareback,  with  his 
heels  and  a  huge  stick. 

This  man,  after  having  passed  the  suburbs,  turned 
into  National  Street,  formerly  Imperial  Street,  crossed 
New-Market  Square,  and  stopped  at  last  before  the 
fine  house  which  stands  at  the  corner  of  Castle  Street. 

This  was  the  house  of  the  mayor  of  Sauveterre,  M. 
i 


2         WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

Seneschal,  a  former  lawyer,  and  now  a  member  of  the 
general  council. 

Having  alighted,  the  peasant  seized  the  bell-knob, 
and  began  to  ring  so  furiously,  that,  in  a  few  moments, 
the  whole  house  was  in  an  uproar. 

A  minute  later,  a  big,  stout  servant-man,  his  eyes 
heavy  with  sleep,  came  and  opened  the  door,  and  then 
cried  out  in  an  angry  voice, — 

"  Who  are  you,  my  man  ?  What  do  you  want  ? 
Have  you  taken  too  much  wine?  Don't  you  know  at 
whose  house  you  are  making  such  a  row  ?  " 

"  I  wish  to  see  the  mayor,"  replied  the  peasant  in- 
stantly. "  Wake  him  up  !  " 

M.  Seneschal  was  wide  awake. 

Dressed  in  a  large  dressing-gown  of  gray  flannel,  a 
candlestick  in  his  hand,  troubled,  and  unable  to  disguise 
his  trouble,  he  had  just  come  down  into  the  hall,  and 
heard  all  that  was  said. 

"  Here  is  the  mayor,"  he  said  in  an  ill-satisfied  tone. 
"  What  do  you  want  of  him  at  this  hour,  when  all 
honest  people  are  in  bed  ?  " 

Pushing  the  servant  aside,  the  peasant  came  up  to 
him,  and  said,  making  not  the  slightest  attempt  at 
politeness, — 

"  I  come  to  tell  you  to  send  the  fire-engine." 

"  The  engine !  " 

"  Yes ;  at  once.    Make  haste !  " 

The  mayor  shook  his  head. 

"  Hm !  "  he  said,  according  to  a  habit  he  had  when 
he  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do ;  "  hm,  hm !  " 

And  who  would  not  have  been  embarrassed  in  his 
place  ? 

To  get  the  engine  out,  and  to  assemble  the  firemen, 
he  had  to  rouse  the  whole  town ;  and  to  do  this  in  the 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE         3 

middle  of  the  night  was  nothing  less  than  to  frighten 
the  poor  people  of  Sauveterre,  who  had  heard  the 
drums  beating  the  alarm  but  too  often  during  the  war 
with  the  Germans,  and  then  again  during  the  reign  of 
the  Commune.  Therefore  M.  Seneschal  asked, — 

"  Is  it  a  serious  fire  ?  " 

"  Serious !  "  exclaimed  the  peasant.  "  How  could  it 
be  otherwise  with  such  a  wind  as  this, — a  wind  that 
would  blow  off  the  horns  of  our  oxen." 

"  Hm  !  "  uttered  the  mayor  again.    "  Hm,  hm !  " 

It  was  not  exactly  the  first  time,  since  he  was  mayor 
of  Sauveterre,  that  he  was  thus  roused  by  a  peasant, 
who  came  and  cried  under  his  window,  "  Help !  Fire, 
fire ! " 

At  first,  filled  with  compassion,  he  had  hastily  called 
out  the  firemen,  put  himself  at  their  head,  and  hurried 
to  the  fire. 

And  when  they  reached  it,  out  of  breath,  and  perspir- 
ing, after  having  made  two  or  three  miles  at  double- 
quick,  they  found  what?  A  wretched  heap  of  straw, 
worth  about  ten  dollars,  and  almost  consumed  by  the 
fire.  They  had  had  their  trouble  for  nothing. 

The  peasants  in  the  neighborhood  had  cried  "  Wolf!" 
so  often,  when  there  was  no  reason  for  it,  that,  even 
when  the  wolf  really  was  there,  the  townspeople  were 
slow  in  believing  it. 

"  Let  us  see,"  said  M.  Seneschal :  "  what  is  burning  ?" 

The  peasant  seemed  to  be  furious  at  all  these  delays, 
and  bit  his  long  whip. 

"  Must  I  tell  you  again  and  again,"  he  said,  "  that 
every  thing  is  on  fire, — barns,  outhouses,  haystacks, 
the  houses,  the  old  castle,  and  every  thing?  If  you  wait 
much  longer,  you  won't  find  one  stone  upon  another 
in  Valpinson." 


4        WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

The  effect  produced  by  this  name  was  prodigious. 

"  What  ? "  asked  the  mayor  in  a  half-stifled  voice, 
"  Valpinson  is  on  fire  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  At  Count  Claudieuse's  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"  Fool !  why  did  you  not  say  so  at  once  ?  "  exclaimed 
the  mayor. 

He  hesitated  no  longer. 

"  Quick !  "  he  said  to  his  servant,  "  go  and  get  me 
my  clothes.  Wait,  no !  my  wife  can  help  me.  There  is 
no  time  to  be  lost.  You  run  to  Bolton,  the  drummer, 
you  know,  and  tell  him  from  me  to  beat  the  alarm  in- 
stantly all  over  town.  Then  you  run  to  Capt.  Paren- 
teau's,  and  explain  to  him  what  you  have  heard.  Ask 
him  to  get  the  keys  of  the  engine-house. — Wait ! — when 
you  have  done  that,  come  back  and  put  the  horse  in. — 
Fire  at  Valpinson!  I  shall  go  with  the  engine.  Go, 
run,  knock  at  every  door,  cry,  '  Fire !  Fire ! '  Tell 
everybody  to  come  to  the  New-Market  Square." 

When  the  servant  had  run  off  as  fast  as  he  could,  the 
mayor  turned  to  the  peasant,  and  said, — 

"  And  you,  my  good  man,  you  get  on  your  horse,  and 
reassure  the  count.  Tell  them  all  to  take  courage,  not 
to  give  up ;  we  are  coming  to  help  them." 

But  the  peasant  did  not  move. 

"  Before  going  back  to  Valpinson,"  he  said,  "  I  have 
another  commission  to  attend  to  in  town." 

"Why?    What  is  it?" 

"  I  am  to  get  the  doctor  to  go  back  with  me." 

"  The  doctor!    Why?    Has  anybody  been  hurt? 

"  Yes,  master,  Count  Claudieuse." 

"  How  imprudent !  I  suppose  he  rushed  into  danger 
as  usually." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE         5 

"  Oh,  no !    He  has  been  shot  twice !  " 

The  mayor  of  Sauveterre  nearly  dropped  his  candle- 
stick. 

"Shot?  Twice!"  he  said.  "  Where  ?  when  ?  by 
whom?  " 

"  Ah !  I  don't  know." 

"  But  "— 

"  All  I  can  tell  you  is  this.  They  have  carried  him 
into  a  little  barn  that  was  not  on  fire  yet.  There  I 
saw  him  myself  lying  on  the  straw,  pale  like  a  linen 
sheet,  his  eyes  closed,  and  bloody  all  over." 

"  Great  God !    They  have  not  killed  him  ?  " 

"  He  was  not  dead  when  I  left." 

"  And  the  countess  ?  " 

"  Our  lady,"  replied  the  peasant  with  an  accent  of 
profound  veneration,  "  was  in  the  barn  on  her  knees  by 
the  count's  side,  washing  his  wounds  with  fresh  water. 
The  two  little  ladies  were  there  too." 

M.  Seneschal  trembled  with  excitement. 

"  It  is  a  crime  that  has  been  committed,  I  suppose." 

"  Why,  of  course  !  " 

"  But  who  did  it?    What  was  the  motive?  " 

"  Ah !  that  is  the  question." 

"  The  count  is  very  passionate,  to  be  sure,  quite  vio- 
lent, in  fact ;  but  still  he  is  the  best  and  fairest  of  men, 
everybody  knows  that." 

"  Everybody  knows  it." 

"  He  never  did  any  harm  to  anybody." 

"  That  is  what  all  say." 

"  As  for  the  countess  " — 

"  Oh !  "  said  the  peasant  eagerly,  "  she  is  the  saint  of 
saints." 

The  mayor  tried  to  come  to  some  conclusion. 

"  The  criminal,  therefore,  must  be  a  stranger.  We  are 


6        WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

overrun  with  vagabonds  and  beggars  on  the  tramp. 
There  is  not  a  day  on  which  a  lot  of  ill-looking  fellows 
do  not  appear  at  my  office,  asking  for  help  to  get  away." 

The  peasant  nodded  his  head,  and  said, — 

"  That  is  what  I  think.  And  the  proof  of  it  is,  that, 
as  I  came  along,  I  made  up  my  mind  I  would  first  get 
the  doctor,  and  then  report  the  crime  at  the  police 
office." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  the  mayor.  "  I  will  do  that  my- 
self. In  ten  minutes  I  shall  see  the  attorney  of  the 
Commonwealth.  Now  go.  Don't  spare  your  horse, 
and  tell  your  mistress  that  we  are  all  coming  after  you." 

In  his  whole  official  career  M.  Seneschal  had  never 
been  so  terribly  shocked.  He  lost  his  head,  just  as  he 
did  on  that  unlucky  day,  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  nine 
hundred  militia-men  fell  upon  him,  and  asked  to  be 
fed  and  lodged.  Without  his  wife's  help  he  would 
never  have  been  able  to  dress  himself.  Still  he  was 
ready  when  his  servant  returned. 

The  good  fellow  had  done  all  he  had  been  told  to  do, 
and  at  that  moment  the  beat  of  the  drum  was  heard  in 
the  upper  part  of  the  town. 

"  Now,  put  the  horse  in,"  said  M.  Seneschal :  "  let  me 
find  the  carriage  at  the  door  when  I  come  back." 

In  the  streets  he  found  all  in  an  uproar.  At  every 
window  a  head  popped  out,  full  of  curiosity  or  terror ; 
on  all  sides  house  doors  were  opened,  and  promptly 
closed  again. 

"  Great  God !  "  he  thought,  "  I  hope  I  shall  find  Dau- 
bigeon  at  home !  "  M.  Daubigeon,  who  had  been  first  in 
the  service  of  the  empire,  and  then  in  the  service  of  the 
republic,  was  one  of  M.  Seneschal's  best  friends.  He 
was  a  man  of  about  forty  years,  with  a  cunning  look  in 
his  eye,  a  permanent  smile  on  his  face,  and  a  confirmed 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE         7 

bachelor,  with  no  small  pride  in  his  consistency.  The 
good  people  of  Sauveterre  thought  he  did  not  look  stern 
and  solemn  enough  for  his  profession.  To  be  sure  he 
was  very  highly  esteemed ;  but  his  optimism  was  not 
popular:  they  reproached  him  for  being  too  kind- 
hearted,  too  reluctant  to  press  criminals  whom  he  had 
to  prosecute,  and  thus  prone  to  encourage  evil-doers. 

He  accused  himself  of  not  being  inspired  with  the 
"  holy  fire,"  and,  as  he  expressed  it  in  his  own  way,  "  of 
robbing  Themis  of  all  the  time  he  could,  to  devote  it 
to  the  friendly  Muses."  He  was  a  passionate  lover  of 
fine  books,  rare  editions,  costly  bindings,  and  fine  illus- 
trations ;  and  much  the  larger  part  of  his  annual  income 
of  about  ten  thousand  francs  went  to  buying  books.  A 
scholar  of  the  old-fashioned  type,  he  professed  bound- 
less admiration  for  Virgil  and  Juvenal,  but,  above  all, 
for  Horace,  and  proved  his  devotion  by  constant  quota- 
tions. 

Roused,  like  everybody  else  in  the  midst  of  his  slum- 
bers, this  excellent  man  hastened  to  put  on  his  clothes, 
when  his  old  housekeeper  came  in,  quite  excited,  and 
told  him  that  M.  Seneschal  was  there,  and  wanted  to 
see  him. 

"  Show  him  in !  "  he  said,  "  show  him  in !  " 
And,  as  soon  as  the  mayor  entered,  he  continued : — 
"  For  you  will  be  able  to  tell  me  the  meaning  of  all 
this  noise,  this  beating  of  drums, — 

'  Clamorque,  virum,  clangorque  tubarum.' " 

"  A  terrible  misfortune  has  happened,"  answered  the 
mayor.  From  the  tone  of  his  voice  one  might  have 
imagined  it  was  he  himself  who  had  been  afflicted ;  and 
the  lawyer  was  so  strongly  impressed  in  this  way,  that 
he  said, — 


8         WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

"  My  dear  friend,  what  is  the  matter?  Quid?  Cour- 
age, my  friend,  keep  cool !  Remember  that  the  poet 
advises  us,  in  misfortune  never  to  lose  our  balance  of 
mind : — 

'  yEquam,   memento,   rebus  in  arduis, 
Servare  mentem.' " 

"  Incendiaries  have  set  Valpinson  on  fire !  "  broke  in 
the  mayor. 

"  You  do  not  say  so  ?    Great  God ! 

'  Jupiter, 
Quod  verbum  audio.' " 

"  More  than  that.  Count  Claudieuse  has  been  shot, 
and  by  this  time  he  is  probably  dead." 

"  Oh !  " 

"  You  hear  the  drummer  is  beating  the  alarm.  I  am 
going  to  the  fire ;  and  I  have  only  come  here  to  report 
the  matter  officially  to  you,  and  to  ask  you  to  see  to  it 
that  justice  be  done  promptly  and  energetically." 

There  was  no  need  of  such  a  serious  appeal  to  stop 
at  once  all  the  lawyer's  quotations. 

"  Enough !  "  he  said  eagerly.  "  Come,  let  us  take 
measures  to  catch  the  wretches." 

When  they  reached  National  Street,  it  was  as  full  as 
at  mid-day;  for  Sauveterre  is  one  of  those  provincial 
towns  in  which  an  excitement  is  too  rare  a  treat  to  be 
neglected.  The  sad  event  had  by  this  time  become  fully 
known  everywhere.  At  first  the  news  had  been 
doubted ;  but  when  the  doctor's  cab  had  passed  the 
crowd  at  full  speed,  escorted  by  a  peasant  on  horse- 
back, the  reports  were  believed.  Nor  had  the  firemen 
lost  time.  As  soon  as  the  mayor  and  M.  Daubigeon 
appeared  on  New-Market  Square,  Capt.  Parenteau 
rushed  up  to  them,  and,  touching  his  helmet  with  a  mil- 
itary salute,  said, — 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE         9 

"  My  men  are  ready." 

"All?" 

"  There  are  hardly  ten  absentees.  When  they  heard 
that  Count  and  Countess  Claudieuse  were  in  need — 
great  heavens ! — you  know,  they  all  were  ready  in  a 
moment." 

"  Well,  then,  start  and  make  haste,"  commanded  M. 
Seneschal.  "  We  shall  overtake  you  on  the  way :  M. 
Daubigeon  and  I  are  going  to  pick  up  M.  Galpin,  the 
magistrate." 

They  had  not  far  to  go. 

The  magistrate  had  already  been  looking  for  them  all 
over  town:  he  was  just  appearing  on  the  Square,  and 
saw  them  at  once. 

In  striking  contrast  with  the  commonwealth  attorney, 
M.  Galpin  was  a  professional  man  in  the  full  sense  of 
the  word,  and  perhaps  a  little  more.  He  was  the  magis- 
trate all  over,  from  head  to  foot,  and  from  the  gaiters 
on  his  ankles  to  the  light  blonde  whiskers  on  his  face. 
Although  he  was  quite  young,  yet  no  one  had  ever  seen 
him  smile,  or  heard  him  make  a  joke.  He  was  so  very 
stiff  that  M.  Daubigeon  suggested  he  had  been  im- 
paled alive  on  the  sword  of  justice. 

At  Sauveterre  M.  Galpin  was  looked  upon  as  a  su- 
perior man.  He  certainly  believed  it  himself :  hence  he 
was  very  impatient  at  being  confined  to  so  narrow  a 
sphere  of  action,  and  thought  his  brilliant  ability 
wasted  upon  the  prosecution  of  a  chicken-thief  or  a 
poacher.  But  his  almost  desperate  efforts  to  secure  a 
better  office  had  always  been  unsuccessful.  In  vain  he 
had  enlisted  a  host  of  friends  in  his  behalf.  In  vain  he 
had  thrown  himself  into  politics,  ready  to  serve  any 
party  that  would  serve  him. 

But  M.  Galpin's  ambition  was  not  easily  discour- 


io       WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

aged;  and  lately,  after  a  journey  to  Paris,  he  had 
thrown  out  hints  at  a  great  match,  which  would  shortly 
procure  him  that  influence  in  high  places  which  so  far 
he  had  been  unable  to  obtain.  When  he  joined  M. 
Daubigeon  and  the  mayor,  he  said, — 

"  Well,  this  is  a  horrible  affair !  It  will  make  a  tre- 
mendous noise."  The  mayor  began  to  give  him  the 
details,  but  he  said, — 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself.  I  know  all  you  know.  I 
met  the  peasant  who  had  been  sent  in,  and  I  have  exam- 
ined him." 

Then,  turning  to  the  commonwealth  attorney,  he 
added, — 

"  I  think  we  ought  to  proceed  at  once  to  the  place 
where  the  crime  has  been  committed." 

"  I  was  going  to  suggest  it  to  you,"  replied  M.  Dau- 
bigeon. 

"  The  gendarmes  ought  to  be  notified." 

"  M.  Seneschal  has  just  sent  them  word." 

The  magistrate  was  so  much  excited,  that  his  cold 
impassiveness  actually  threatened  to  give  way  for  once. 

"  There  has  been  an  attempt  at  murder." 

"  Evidently." 

"  Then  we  can  act  in  concert,  and  side  by  side,  each 
one  in  his  own  line  of  duty,  you  examining,  and  I  pre- 
paring for  the  trial." 

An  ironical  smile  passed  over  the  lips  of  the  common- 
wealth attorney. 

"  You  ought  to  know  me  well  enough,"  he  said,  "  to 
be  sure  that  I  have  never  interfered  with  your  duties 
and  privileges.  I  am  nothing  but  a  good  old  fellow,  a 
friend  of  peace  and  of  studies. 

'  Sum  piger  et  senior,  Pieridumque  comes.' " 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       n 

"  Then,  exclaimed  M.  Seneschal,  nothing  keeps  us 
here  any  longer.  I  am  impatient  to  be  off ;  my  carriage 
is  ready ;  let  us  go !  " 


II. 

IN  a  straight  line  it  is  only  a  mile  from  Sauveterre  to 
Valpinson ;  but  that  mile  is  as  long  as  two  elsewhere. 
M.  Seneschal,  however,  had  a  good  horse,  "  the  best 
perhaps  in  the  county,"  he  said,  as  he  got  into  his  car- 
riage. In  ten  minutes  they  had  overtaken  the  firemen, 
who  had  left  some  time  before  them.  And  yet  these 
good  people,  all  of  them  master  workmen  of  Sauve- 
terre, masons,  carpenters,  and  tilers,  hurried  along  as 
fast  as  they  could.  They  had  half  a  dozen  smoking 
torches  with  them  to  light  them  on  the  way:  they 
walked,  puffing  and  groaning,  on  the  bad  road,  and 
pulling  the  two  engines,  together  with  the  heavy  cart 
on  which  they  had  piled  up  their  ladders  and  other 
tools. 

"  Keep  up,  my  friends  !  "  said  the  mayor  as  he  passed 
them, —  "  keep  up !  "  Three  minutes  farther  on,  a 
peasant  on  horseback  appeared  in  the  dark,  riding  along 
like  a  forlorn  knight  in  a  romance.  M.  Daubigeon  or- 
dered him  to  halt.  He  stopped. 

"  You  come  from  Valpinson?  "  asked  M.  Seneschal. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  peasant. 

"How  is  the  count?" 

"  He  has  come  to  at  last." 

"  What  does  the  doctor  say  ?  " 

"  He  says  he  will  live.  I  am  going  to  the  druggist 
to  get  some  medicines."  M.  Galpin,  to  hear  better,  was 
leaning  out  of  the  carriage.  He  asked, — 


12       WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Do  they  accuse  any  one  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  And  the  fire  ?  " 

"  They  have  water  enough,"  replied  the  peasant, 
"  but  no  engines :  so  what  can  they  do  ?  And  the  wind 
is  rising  again  !  Oh,  what  a  misfortune  !  " 

He  rode  off  as  fast  as  he  could,  while  M.  Seneschal 
was  whipping  his  poor  horse,  which,  unaccustomed  as 
it  was  to  such  treatment,  instead  of  going  any  faster, 
only  reared,  and  jumped  from  side  to  side.  The  excel- 
lent man  was  in  despair.  He  looked  upon  this  crime  as 
if  it  had  been  committed  on  purpose  to  disgrace  him, 
and  to  do  the  greatest  possible  injury  to  his  adminis- 
tration. 

"  For  after  all,"  he  said,  for  the  tenth  time  to  his 
companions,  "  is  it  natural,  I  ask  you,  is  it  sensible, 
that  a  man  should  think  of  attacking  the  Count  and  the 
Countess  Claudieuse,  the  most  distinguished  and  the 
most  esteemed  people  in  the  whole  county,  and  espe- 
cially a  lady  whose  name  is  synonymous  with  virtue 
and  charity?  " 

And,  without  minding  the  ruts  and  the  stones  in  the 
road,  M.  Seneschal  went  on  repeating  all  he  knew 
about  the  owners  of  Valpinson. 

Count  Trivulce  Claudieuse  was  the  last  scion  of  one 
of  the  oldest  families  of  the  country.  At  sixteen,  about 
1829,  he  had  entered  the  navy  as  ensign,  and  for  many 
years  he  had  appeared  at  Sauveterre  only  rarely,  and 
at  long  intervals.  In  1859  he  had  become  a  captain, 
and  was  on  the  point  of  being  made  admiral,  when  he 
had  all  of  a  sudden  sent  in  his  resignation,  and  taken  up 
his  residence  at  the  Castle  of  Valpinson,  although  the 
house  had  nothing  to  show  of  its  former  splendor  but 
two  towers  falling  to  pieces,  and  an  immense  mass  of 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       13 

ruin  and  rubbish.  For  two  years  he  had  lived  here 
alone,  busy  with  building  up  the  old  house  as  well  as 
it  could  be  done,  and  by  great  energy  and  incessant  la- 
bor restoring  it  to  some  of  its  former  splendor.  It  was 
thought  he  would  finish  his  days  in  this  way,  when  one 
day  the  report  arose  that  he  was  going  to  be  married. 
The  report,  for  once,  proved  true. 

One  fine  day  Count  Claudieuse  had  left  for  Paris; 
and,  a  few  days  later,  his  friends  had  been  informed  by 
letter  that  he  had  married  the  daughter  of  one  of  his 
former  colleagues,  Miss  Genevieve  de  Tassar.  The 
amazement  had  been  universal.  The  count  looked  like 
a  gentleman,  and  was  very  well  preserved ;  but  he  was 
at  least  forty-seven  years  old,  and  Miss  Genevieve  was 
hardly  twenty.  Now,  if  the  bride  had  been  poor,  they 
would  have  understood  the  match,  and  approved  it: 
it  is  but  natural  that  a  poor  girl  should  sacrifice  her 
heart  to  her  daily  bread.  But  here  it  was  not  so.  The 
Marquis  de  Tassar  was  considered  wealthy ;  and  report 
said  that  his  daughter  had  brought  her  husband  fifty 
thousand  dollars. 

Next  they  had  it  that  the  bride  was  fearfully  ugly, 
infirm,  or  at  least  hunchback,  perhaps  idiotic,  or,  at  all 
events,  of  frightful  temper. 

By  no  means.  She  had  come  down ;  and  everybody 
was  amazed  at  her  noble,  quiet  beauty.  She  had  con- 
versed with  them,  and  charmed  everybody. 

Was  it  really  a  love-match,  as  people  called  it  at 
Sauveterre?  Perhaps  so.  Nevertheless  there  was  no 
lack  of  old  ladies  who  shook  their  heads,  and  said 
twenty-seven  years  difference  between  husband  and 
wife  was  too  much,  and  such  a  match  could  not  turn 
out  well. 

All  these  dark  forebodings  came  to  nought.    The  fact 


i4       WITHIN  x  AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

was,  that,  for  miles  and  miles  around,  there  was  not  a 
happier  couple  to  be  found  than  the  Count  and  the 
Countess  Claudieuse ;  and  two  children,  girls,  who  had 
appeared  at  an  interval  of  four  years,  seemed  to  have 
secured  the  happiness  of  the  house  forever. 

It  is  true  the  count  had  retained  somewhat  of  the 
haughty  manners,  the  reserve,  and  the  imperious  tone, 
which  he  had  acquired  during  the  time  that  he  con- 
trolled the  destinies  of  certain  important  colonies.  He 
was,  moreover,  naturally  so  passionate,  that  the  slight- 
est excitement  made  him  turn  purple  in  his  face.  But 
the  countess  was  as  gentle  and  as  sweet  as  he  was  vio- 
lent ;  and  as  she  never  failed  to  step  in  between  her  hus- 
band and  the  object  of  his  wrath,  as  both  he  and  she 
were  naturally  just,  kind  to  excess,  and  generous  to  all, 
they  were  beloved  by  everybody.  There  was  only  one 
point  on  which  the  count  was  rather  unmanageable, 
and  that  was  the  game  laws.  He  was  passionately 
fond  of  hunting,  and  watched  all  the  year  round  with 
almost  painful  restlessness  over  his  preserves,  employ- 
ing a  number  of  keepers,  and  prosecuting  poachers  with 
such  energy,  that  people  said  he  would  rather  miss  a 
hundred  napoleons  than  a  single  bird. 

The  count  and  the  countess  lived  quite  retired,  and 
gave  their  whole  time,  he  to  agricultural  pursuits,  and 
she  to  the  education  of  her  children.  They  entertained 
but  little,  and  did  not  come  to  Sauveterre  more  than 
four  times  a  year,  to  visit  the  Misses  Lavarande,  or  the 
old  Baron  de  Chandore.  Every  summer,  towards  the 
end  of  July,  they  went  to  Royan,  where  they  had  a 
cottage.  When  the  season  opened,  and  the  count  went 
hunting,  the  countess  paid  a  visit  to  her  relatives  in 
Paris,  with  whom  she  usually  stayed  a  few  weeks. 

It  required  a  storm  like  that  of  1870  to  overthrow  so 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE       15 

peaceful  an  existence.  When  the  old  captain  heard 
that  the  Prussians  were  on  French  soil,  he  felt  all  the 
instincts  of  the  soldier  and  the  Frenchman  awake  in 
his  heart.  He  could  not  be  kept  at  home,  and  went  to 
headquarters.  Although  a  royalist  at  heart,  he  did  not 
hesitate  a  moment  to  offer  his  sword  to  Gambetta, 
whom  he  detested.  They  made  him  colonel  of  a  regi- 
ment; and  he  fought  like  a  lion,  from  the  first  day  to 
the  last,  when  he  was  thrown  down  and  trod  under  foot 
in  one  of  those  fearful  routs  in  which  a  part  of 
Chanzy's  army  was  utterly  destroyed.  When  the 
armistice  was  signed,  he  returned  to  Valpinson ;  but 
no  one  except  his  wife  ever  succeeded  in  making  him 
say  a  word  about  his  campaign.  He  was  asked  to  be- 
come a  candidate  for  the  assembly,  and  would  have 
certainly  been  elected;  but  he  refused,  saying  that  he 
knew  how  to  fight,  but  not  how  to  talk. 

The  commonwealth  attorney  and  the  magistrate  lis- 
tened but  very  carelessly  to  these  details,  with  which 
they  were  perfectly  familiar.  Suddenly  M.  Galpin 
asked, — 

"  Are  we  not  getting  near  ?  I  look  and  look ;  but  I 
see  no  trace  of  a  fire." 

"  We  are  in  a  deep  valley,"  replied  the  mayor.  "  But 
we  are  quite  near  now,  and,  at  the  top  of  that  hill  before 
us,  you  will  see  enough." 

This  hill  is  well  known  in  the  whole  province,  and  is 
frequently  called  the  Sauveterre  Mountain.  It  is  so 
steep,  and  consists  of  such  hard  granite,  that  the  engi- 
neers who  laid  out  the  great  turnpike  turned  miles  out 
of  their  way  to  avoid  it.  It  overlooks  the  whole 
country;  and,  when  M.  Seneschal  and  his  companions 
had  reached  the  top,  they  could  not  control  their  excite- 
ment. 


16       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Horresco  !  "  murmured  the  attorney. 

The  burning  house  itself  was  hid  by  high  trees ;  but 
columns  of  fire  rose  high  above  the  tops,  and  illumined 
the  whole  region  with  their  sombre  light.  The  whole 
country  was  in  a  state  of  excitement.  The  short,  square 
tower  of  Brechy  sent  the  alarm  from  its  big  bell ;  and 
in  the  deep  shade  on  all  sides  was  heard  the  strange 
sound  of  the  huge  shells  which  the  people  here  use  for 
signals,  and  for  the  summoning  of  laborers  at  meal- 
times. Hurried  steps  were  heard  on  all  the  high-roads 
and  by-roads ;  and  peasants  were  continuously  rushing 
by,  with  a  bucket  in  each  hand. 

"  It  is  too  late  for  help,"  said  M.  Galpin. 

"  Such  a  fine  property !  "  said  the  mayor,  "  and  so 
well  managed  !  "  And,  regardless  of  danger,  he  dashed 
forward,  down  the  hill ;  for  Valpinson  lies  in  a  deep  val- 
ley, half  a  mile  from  the  river.  Here  all  was  terror, 
disorder,  and  confusion;  and  yet  there  was  no  lack  of 
hands  or  of  good-will.  At  the  first  alarm,  all  the  people 
of  the  neighborhood  had  hurried  up,  and  there  were 
more  coming  every  moment;  but  there  was  no  one 
there  to  assume  the  command.  They  were  mainly  en- 
gaged in  saving  the  furniture.  The  boldest  tried  to  get 
into  the  rooms,  and,  in  a  kind  of  rage,  threw  every 
thing  they  could  lay  hold  on  out  of  the  window.  Thus 
the  courtyard  was  already  half  full  of  beds  and  mat- 
tresses, chairs  and  tables,  books,  linen,  and  clothes. 

An  immense  clamor  greeted  the  mayor  and  his  com- 
panions. 

"  Here  comes  the  mayor !  "  cried  the  peasants,  en- 
couraged by  his  presence,  and  all  ready  to  obey  him. 

M.  Seneschal  took  in  the  whole  situation  at  a  glance. 

"  Yes,  here  I  am,  my  friends,"  he  said,  "  and  I  thank 
you  for  your  zeal.  Now  we  must  try  not  to  waste  our 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       17 

efforts.  The  farm  buildings  and  the  workshops  are 
lost:  we  must  give  them  up.  Let  us  try  to  save  the 
dwelling-house.  The  river  is  not  far.  We  must  form 
a  chain.  Everybody  in  line, — men  and  women !  And 
now  for  water,  water !  Here  come  the  engines  !  " 

They  really  came  thundering  up:  the  firemen  ap- 
peared on  the  scene.  Capt.  Parenteau  took  the  com- 
mand. At  last  the  mayor  was  at  leisure  to  inquire  after 
Count  Claudieuse. 

"  Master  is  down  there,"  replied  an  old  woman, 
pointing  at  a  little  cottage  with  a  thatched  roof.  "  The 
doctor  has  had  him  carried  there." 

"  Let  us  go  and  see  how  he  is,"  said  the  mayor  to 
his  two  companions.  They  stopped  at  the  door  of 
the  only  room  of  the  cottage.  It  was  a  large  room  with 
a  floor  of  beaten  clay ;  while  overhead  the  blackened 
beams  were  full  of  working  tools  and  parcels  of  seeds. 
Two  beds  with  twisted  columns  and  yellow  curtains 
filled  one  side :  on  that  on  the  left  hand  lay  a  little  girl, 
four  years  old,  fast  asleep,  and  rolled  up  in  a  blanket, 
watched  over  by  her  sister,  who  was  two  or  three  years 
older.  On  the  other  bed,  Count  Claudieuse  was  lying, 
or  rather  sitting ;  for  they  had  supported  his  back  by  all 
the  pillows  that  had  been  saved  from  the  fire.  His 
chest  was  bare,  and  covered  with  blood;  and  a  man, 
Dr.  Seignebos,  with  his  coat  off,  and  his  sleeves 
rolled  up  above  the  elbows,  was  bending  over  him,  and, 
holding  a  sponge  in  one  hand  and  a  probe  in  the  other, 
seemed  to  be  engaged  in  a  delicate  and  dangerous  oper- 
ation. 

The  countess,  in  a  light  muslin  dress,  was  standing  at 
the  foot  of  her  husband's  bed,  pale  but  admirably  com- 
posed and  resigned.  She  was  holding  a  lamp,  and 
moved  it  to  and  fro  as  the  doctor  directed.  In  a  cor- 


i8       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

ner  two  servant-women  were  sitting  on  a  box,  and  cry- 
ing, their  aprons  turned  over  their  heads. 

At  last  the  mayor  of  Sauveterre  overcame  his  pain- 
ful impressions,  and  entered  the  room.  Count  Claudi- 
•euse  was  the  first  to  perceive  him,  and  said, — 

"  Ah,  here  is  our  good  M.  Seneschal.  Come  nearer, 
my  friend;  come  nearer.  You  see  the  year  1871  is  a 
fatal  year.  It  will  soon  leave  me.  nothing  but  a  few 
handfuls  of  ashes  of  all  I  possessed." 

"  It  is  a  great  misfortune,"  replied  the  excellent 
mayor ;  "  but,  after  all,  it  is  less  than  we  apprehended. 
God  be  thanked,  you  are  safe !  " 

"  Who  knows  ?    I  am  suffering  terribly." 

The  countess  trembled. 

"  Trivulce !  "  she  whispered  in  a  tone  of  entreaty. 
"Trivulce!" 

Never  did  lover  glance  at  his  beloved  with  more  ten- 
derness than  Count  Claudieuse  did  at  his  wife. 

"  Pardon  me,  my  dear  Genevieve,  pardon  me,  if  I 
show  any  want  of  courage." 

A  sudden  nervous  spasm  seized  him ;  and  then  he  ex- 
claimed in  a  loud  voice,  which  sounded  like  a  trum- 
pet,— 

"  Sir !  But  sir !  Thunder  and  lightning !  You  kill 
me!" 

"  I  have  some  chloroform  here,"  replied  the  physician 
coldly. 

"  I  do  not  want  any." 

"  Then  you  must  make  up  your  mind  to  suffer,  and 
keep  quiet  now ;  for  every  motion  adds  to  your  pain." 

Then  sponging  a  jet  of  blood  which  spurted  out  from 
under  his  knife,  he  added, — 

"  However,  you  shall  have  a  few  minutes'  rest  now. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       19 

My  eyes  and  my  hand  are  exhausted.  I  see  I  am  no 
longer  young." 

Dr.  Seignebos  was  sixty  years  old.  He  was  a 
small,  thin  man,  with  a  bald  head  and  a  bilious  com- 
plexion, carelessly  dressed,  and  spending  his  life  in 
taking  off,  wiping,  and  putting  back  again  his  large 
gold  spectacles.  His  reputation  was  widespread ;  and 
they  told  of  wonderful  cures  which  he  had  accom- 
plished. Still  he  had  not  many  friends.  The  common 
people  disliked  his  bitterness;  the  peasants,  his  strict- 
ness in  demanding  his  fees;  and  the  townspeople,  his 
political  views. 

There  was  a  story  that  one  evening,  at  a  public  din- 
ner, he  had  gotten  up  and  said,  "  I  drink  to  the  memory 
of  the  only  physician  of  whose  pure  and  chaste  renown 
I  am  envious, — the  memory  of  my  countryman,  Dr. 
Guillotin  of  Saintes !  " 

Had  he  really  offered  such  a  toast?  The  fact  is,  he 
pretended  to  be  a  fierce  radical,  and  was  certainly  the 
soul  and  the  oracle  of  the  small  socialistic  clubs  in  the 
neighborhood.  People  looked  aghast  when  he  began  to 
talk  of  the  reforms  which  he  thought  necessary;  and 
they  trembled  when  he  proclaimed  his  convictions,  that 
"  the  sword  and  the  torch  ought  to  search  the  rotten 
foundations  of  society." 

These  opinions,  certain  utilitarian  views  of  like  ec- 
centricity, and  still  stranger  experiments  which  he 
openly  carried  on  before  the  whole  world,  had  led  peo- 
ple more  than  once  to  doubt  the  soundness  of  his  mind. 
The  most  charitable  said,  "  He  is  an  oddity."  This 
eccentric  man  had  naturally  no  great  fondness  for  M. 
Seneschal,  the  mayor,  a  former  lawyer,  and  a  legitimist. 
He  did  not  think  much  of  the  commonwealth  attorney, 


20      WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

a  useless  bookworm.  But  he  detested  M.  Galpin.  Still 
he  bowed  to  the  three  men ;  and,  without  minding  his 
patient,  he  said  to  them, — 

"  You  see,  gentlemen,  Count  Claudieuse  is  in  a  bad 
plight.  He  has  been  fired  at  with  a  gun  loaded  with 
small  shot ;  and  wounds  made  in  that  way  are  very 
puzzling.  I  trust  no  vital  part  has  been  injured;  but 
I  cannot  answer  for  any  thing.  I  have  often  in  my 
practice  seen  very  small  injuries,  wounds  caused  by  a 
small-sized  shot,  which,  nevertheless,  proved  fatal,  and 
showed  their  true  character  only  twelve  or  fifteen  hours 
after  the  accident  had  happened." 

He  would  have  gone  on  in  this  way,  if  the  magis- 
trate had  not  suddenly  interrupted  him,  saying, — 

"  Doctor,  you  know  I  am  here  because  a  crime  has 
been  committed.  The  criminal  has  to  be  found  out, 
and  to  be  punished:  hence  I  request  your  assistance, 
from  this  moment,  in  the  name  of  the  Law." 


III. 

BY  this  single  phrase  M.  Galpin  made  himself  master 
of  the  situation,  and  reduced  the  doctor  to  an  inferior 
position,  in  which,  it  is  true,  he  had  the  mayor  and  the 
commonwealth  attorney  to  bear  him  company.  There 
was  nothing  now  to  be  thought  of,  but  the  crime  that 
had  been  committed,  and  the  judge  who  was  to  punish 
the  author.  But  he  tried  in  vain  to  assume  all  the  rigid- 
ity of  his  official  air  and  that  contempt  for  human  feel- 
ings which  has  made  justice  so  hateful  to  thousands. 
His  whole  being  was  impregnated  with  intense  satisfac- 
tion, up  to  his  beard,  cut  and  trimmed  like  the  box- 
hedges  of  an  old-fashioned  garden. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       21 

"  Well,  doctor,"  he  asked,  ".first  of  all,  have  you  any 
objection  to  my  questioning  your  patient?" 

"  It  would  certainly  be  better  for  him  to  be  left 
alone,"  growled  Dr.  Seignebos.  "  I  have  made  him 
suffer  enough  this  last  hour ;  and  I  shall  directly  begin 
again  cutting  out  the  small  pieces  of  lead  which  have 
honeycombed  his  flesh.  But  if  it  must  be  " — 

"  It  must  be." 

"  Well,  then,  make  haste ;  for  the  fever  will  set  in 
presently." 

M.  Daubigeon  could  not  conceal  his  annoyance.  He 
called  out, — 

"  Galpin,  Galpin !  " 

The  other  man  paid  no  attention.  Having  taken  a 
note-book  and  a  pencil  from  his  pocket,  he  drew  up 
close  to  the  sick  man's  bed,  and  asked  him  in  an  under- 
tone,— 

"  Are  you  strong  enough,  count,  to  answer  my  ques- 
tions ?  " 

"Oh,  perfectly!" 

"  Then,  pray  tell  me  all  you  know  of  the  sad  events 
of  to-night  ?  " 

With  the  aid  of  his  wife  and  Dr.  Seignebos,  the 
count  raised  himself  on  his  pillows,  and  began  thus, — 

"  Unfortunately,  the  little  I  know  will  be  of  no  use 
in  aiding  justice  to  discover  the  guilty  man.  It  may 
have  been  eleven  o'clock,  for  I  am  not  even  quite  sure 
of  the  hour,  when  I  had  gone  to  bed,  and  just  blown 
out  my  candle :  suddenly  a  bright  light  fell  upon  the 
window.  I  was  amazed,  and  utterly  confused;  for  I 
was  in  that  state  of  sleepiness  which  is  not  yet  sleep,  but 
very  much  like  it.  I  said  to  myself,  '  What  can  this 
be  ?  '  but  I  did  not  get  up :  I  only  was  roused  by  a  great 
noise,  like  the  crash  of  a  falling  wall ;  and  then  I 


22       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

jumped  out  of  bed,  and  said  to  myself,  '  The  house  is 
on  fire ! '  What  increased  my  anxiety  was  the  fact, 
which  I  at  once  recollected,  that  there  were  in  the 
courtyard,  and  all  around  the  house,  some  sixteen  thou- 
sand bundles  of  dry  wood,  which  had  been  cut  last  year. 
Half  dressed,  I  rushed  downstairs.  I  was  very  much 
bewildered,  I  confess,  and  could  hardly  succeed  in  op- 
ening- the  outer  door :  still  I  did  open  it  at  last.  But  I 
had  barely  put  my  foot  on  the  threshold,  when  I  felt 
in  my  right  side,  a  little  above  the  hip,  a  fierce  pain, 
and  heard  at  the  same  time,  quite  close  to  me,  a  shot." 

The  magistrate  interrupted  him  by  a  gesture. 

"  Your  statement,  count,  is  certainly  remarkably 
clear.  But  there  is  one  point  we  must  try  to  establish. 
Were  you  really  fired  at  the  moment  you  showed  your- 
self at  the  door  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  the  murderer  must  have  been  quite  near  on 
the  watch.  He  must  have  known  that  the  fire  would 
bring  you  out ;  and  he  was  lying  in  wait  for  you." 

"  That  was  and  still  is  my  impression,"  declared  the 
count. 

M.  Galpin  turhed  to  M.  Daubigeon. 

"  Then,"  he  said  to  him,  "  the  murder  is  the  princi- 
pal fact  with  which  we  have  to  do ;  and  the  fire  is  only 
an  aggravating  circumstance, — the  means  which  the 
criminal  employed  in  order  to  succeed  the  better  in  per- 
petrating his  crime." 

Then,  returning  to  the  count,  he  said, — 

"  Pray  go  on." 

"  When  I  felt  I  was  wounded,"  continued  Count 
Claudieuse,  "  my  first  impulse  was  instinctively  to  rush 
forward  to  the  place  from  which  the  gun  seemed  to 
have  been  fired  at  me.  I  had  not  proceeded  three  yards, 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       23 

when  I  felt  the  same  pain  once  more  in  the.  shoulder 
and  in  the  neck.  This  second  wound  was  more  serious 
than  the  first;  for  I  lost  my  consciousness,  my  head 
began  to  swim  and  I  fell." 

"  You  had  not  seen  the  murderer  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  At  the  moment  when  I  fell,  I 
thought  I  saw  a  man  rush  forth  from  behind  a  pile  of 
fagots,  cross  the  courtyard,  and  disappear  in  the  fields. 

"  Would  you  recognize  him  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  But  you  saw  how  he  was  dressed :  you  can  give  me 
a  description  ?  " 

"  No,  I  cannot.  I  felt  as  if  there  was  a  veil  before 
my  eyes ;  and  he  passed  me  like  a  shadow." 

The  magistrate  could  hardly  conceal  his  disappoint- 
ment. 

"  Never  mind,"  he  said,  "  we'll  find  him  out.  But 
go  on,  sir?  " 

The  count  shook  his  head. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,"  he  replied.  "  I  had 
fainted ;  and  when  I  recovered  my  consciousness,  some 
hours  later,  I  found  myself  here  lying  on  this  bed." 

M.  Galpin  noted  down  the  count's  answrers  with 
scrupulous  exactness:  when  he  had  done,  he  asked 
again, — 

"  We  must  return  to  the  details  of  the  attack,  and  ex- 
amine them  minutely.  Now,  however,  it  is  important 
to  know  what  happened  after  you  fell.  Who  could  tell 
us  that  ?  " 

"  My  wife,  sir." 

"  I  thought  so.  The  countess,  no  doubt,  got  up  when 
you  rose." 

"  My  wife  had  not  gone  to  bed." 

The  magistrate  turned  suddenly  to  the  countess ;  and 


24       WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

at  a  glance  he  perceived  that  her  costume  was  not 
that  of  a  lady  who  had  been  suddenly  roused  from 
slumber  by  the  burning  of  her  house." 

"  I  see,"  he  said  to  himself. 

"  Bertha,"  the  count  went  on  to  state,  "  our  youngest 
daughter,  who  is  lying  there  on  that  bed,  under  the 
blanket,  has  the  measles,  and  is  suffering  terribly.  My 
wife  was  sitting  up  with  her.  Unfortunately  the  win- 
dows of  her  room  look  upon  the  garden,  on  the  side  op- 
posite to  that  where  the  fire  broke  out." 

"  How,  then,  did  the  countess  become  aware  of  the 
accident  ?  "  asked  the  magistrate. 

Without  waiting  for  a  more  direct  question,  the 
countess  came  forward  and  said, — 

"  As  my  husband  has  just  told  you,  I  was  sitting  up 
with  my  little  Bertha.  I  was  rather  tired ;  for  I  had 
sat  up  the  night  before  also,  and  I  had  begun  to  nod, 
when  a  sudden  noise  aroused  me.  I  was  not  quite 
sure  whether  I  had  really  heard  such  a  noise ;  but  just 
then  a  second  shot  was  heard.  I  left  the  room  more 
astonished  than  frightened.  Ah,  sir !  the  fire  had  al- 
ready made  such  headway,  that  the  staircase  was  as 
light  as  in  broad  day.  I  went  down  in  great  haste. 
The  outer  door  was  open.  I  went  out ;  and  there,  some 
five  or  six  yards  from  me,  I  saw,  by  the  light  of  the 
flames,  the  body  of  my  husband  lying  on  the  ground.  I 
threw  myself  upon  him ;  but  he  did  not  even  hear  me : 
his  heart  had  ceased  to  beat.  I  thought  he  was  dead ; 
I  called  for  help ;  I  was  in  despair." 

M.  Seneschal  and  M.  Daubigeon  trembled  with  ex- 
citement. 

"  Well,  very  well !  "  said  M.  Galpin,  with  an  air  of 
satisfaction, — "  very  well  done  !  " 

"  You  know,"  continued  the  countess,  "  how  hard  it 


WITHIN    AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE       25 

is  to  rouse  country-people.  It  seems  to  me  I  remained 
ever  so  long  alone  there,  kneeling  by  the  side  of  my 
husband.  At  last  the  brightness  of  the  fire  awakened 
some  of  the  farm-hands,  the  workmen,  and  our  serv- 
ants. They  rushed  out,  crying,  '  Fire ! '  When  they 
saw  me,  they  ran  up  and  helped  me  carry  my  husband 
to  a  place  of  safety;  for  the  danger  was  increasing 
every  minute.  The  fire  was  spreading  with  terrific  vio- 
lence, thanks  to  a  furious  wind.  The  barns  were  one 
vast  mass  of  fire ;  the  outbuildings  were  burning ;  the 
distillery  was  in  a  blaze ;  and  the  roof  of  the  dwelling- 
house  was  flaming  up  in  various  places.  And  there  was 
not  one  cool  head  among  them  all.  I  was  so  utterly 
bewildered,  that  I  forgot  all  about  my  children;  and 
their  room  was  already  in  flames,  when  a  brave,  bold 
fellow  rushed  in,  and  snatched  them  from  the  very 
jaws  of  death.  I  did  not  come  to  myself  till  Dr. 
Seignebos  arrived,  and  spoke  to  me  words  of  hope. 
This  fire  will  probably  ruin  us ;  but  what  matters  that, 
so  long  as  my  husband  and  my  children  are  safe  ?  " 

Dr.  Seignebos  had  more  than  once  given  utter- 
ance to  his  contemptuous  impatience :  he  did  not  ap- 
preciate these  preliminary  steps.  The  others,  howeiver, 
the  mayor,  the  attorney,  and  even  the  servants,  had 
hardly  been  able  to  suppress  their  excitement.  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  growled  between  his 
teeth, — 

"  Mere  formalities !  How  petty !  How  childish !  " 
After  having  taken  off  his  spectacles,  wiped  them 
and  replaced  them  twenty  times,  he  had  sat  down  at 
the  rickety  table  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  and  amused 
himself  with  arranging  the  fifteen  or  twenty  shot  he 
had  extracted  from  the  count's  wounds,  in  long  lines 
or  small  circles.  But,  when  the  countess  uttered  her 


26       WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

last  words,  he  rose,  and,  turning  to  M.  Galpin,  said  in 
a  curt  tone, — 

"  Now,  sir,  I  hope  you  will  let  me  have  my  patient 
again." 

The  magistrate  was  not  a  little  incensed :  there  was 
reason  enough,  surely;  and,  frowning  fiercely,  he 
said, — 

"  I  appreciate,  sir,  the  importance  of  your  duties ;  but 
mine  are,  I  think,  by  no  means  less  solemn  nor  less 
urgent." 

"  Oh ! " 

"  Consequently  you  will  be  pleased,  sir,  to  grant  me 
five  minutes  more." 

"  Ten,  if  it  must  be,  sir.  Only  I  warn  you  that  every 
minute  henceforth  may  endanger  the  life  of  my  pa- 
tient." 

They  had  drawn  near  to  each  other,  and  were  meas- 
uring each  other  with  defiant  looks,  which  betrayed  the 
bitterest  animosity.  They  would  surely  not  quarrel  at 
the  bedside  of  a  dying  man?  The  countess  seemed  to 
fear  such  a  thing ;  for  she  said  reproachfully, — 

"  Gentlemen,  I  pray,  gentlemen  " — 

Perhaps  her  intervention  would  have  been  of  no 
avail,  if  M.  Seneschal  and  M.  Daubigeon  had  not 
stepped  in,  each  addressing  one  of  the  two  adversaries. 
M.  Galpin  was  apparently  the  most  obstinate  of  the 
two;  for,  in  spite  of  all,  he  began  once  more  to  ques- 
tion the  count,  and  said, — 

"  I  have  only  one  more  question  to  ask  you,  sir : 
Where  and  how  were  you  standing,  where  and  how  do 
you  think  the  murderer  was  standing,  at  the  moment 
when  the  crime  was  committed  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  count,  evidently  with  a  great  ef- 
fort, "  I  was  standing,  as  I  told  you,  on  the  threshold 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       27 

of  my  door,  facing-  the  courtyard.  The  murderer  must 
have  been  standing  some  twenty  yards  off,  on  my  right, 
behind  a  pile  of  wood." 

When  he  had  written  down  the  answer  of  the 
wounded  man,  the  magistrate  turned  once  more  to  the 
physician,  and  said, — 

"  You  heard  what  was  said,  sir.  It  is  for  you  now 
to  aid  justice  by  telling  us  at  what  dstance  the  mur- 
derer must  have  been  when  he  fired." 

"  I  don't  guess  riddles,"  replied  the  physician 
coarsely. 

"  Ah,  have  a  care,  sir !  "  said  M.  Galpin.  "  Justice, 
whom  I  here  represent,  has  the  right  and  the  means  to 
enforce  respect.  You  are  a  physician,  sir;  and  your 
science  is  able  to  answer  my  question  with  almost 
mathematical  accuracy." 

The  physician  laughed,  and  said, — 

T<  Ah,  indeed !  Science  has  reached  that  point,  has 
it?  Which  science?  Medical  jurisprudence,  no 
doubt, — that  part  of  our  profession  which  is  at  the 
service  of  the  courts,  and  obeys  the  judges'  behests." 

"Sir!" 

But  the  doctor  was  not  the  man  to  allow  himself  to 
be  defeated  a  second  time.  He  went  on  coolly, — 

"  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say ;  there  is  no 
handbook  of  medical  jurisprudence  which  does  not 
peremptorily  settle  the  question  you  ask  me.  I  have 
studied  these  handbooks,  these  formidable  weapons 
which  you  gentlemen  of  the  bar  know  so  well  how  to 
handle.  I  know  the  opinions  of  a  Devergie  and  an 
Orfila,  I  know  even  what  Casper  and  Tardieu,  and  a 
host  of  others,  teach  on  that  subject.  I  am  fully  aware 
that  these  gentlemen  claim  to  be  able  to  tell  you  by  the 
inch  at  what  distance  a  shot  has  been  fired.  But  I  am 


28       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

not  so  skilful.  I  am  only  a  poor  country-practitioner, 
a  simple  healer  of  diseases.  And  before  I  give  an 
opinion  which  may  cost  a  poor  devil  his  life,  innocent 
though  he  be,  I  must  have  time  to  reflect,  to  consult 
data,  and  to  compare  other  cases  in  my  practice." 

He  was  so  evidently  right  in  reality,  if  not  in  form, 
that  even  M.  Galpin  gave  way. 

"  It  is  merely  as  a  matter  of  information  that  I  re- 
quest your  opinion,  sir,"  he  replied.  "  Your  real  and 
carefully-considered  professional  opinion  will,  of 
course,  be  given  in  a  special  statement." 

"  Ah,  if  that  is  the  case  !  " 

"  Pray,  inform  me,  then,  unofficially,  what  you  think 
of  the  nature  of  the  wounds  of  Count  Claudieuse." 

Dr.  Seignebos  settled  his  spectacles  ceremoniously 
on  his  nose,  and  then  replied, — 

"  My  impression,  so  far  as  I  am  now  able  to  judge, 
is  that  the  count  has  stated  the  facts  precisely  as  they 
were.  I  am  quite  ready  to  believe  that  the  murderer 
was  lying  in  ambush  behind  one  of  the  piles  of  wood, 
and  at  the  distance  which  he  has  mentioned.  I  am  also 
able  to  affirm  that  the  two  shots  were  fired  at  differ- 
ent distances, — one  much  nearer  than  the  other.  The 
proof  of  it  lies  in  the  nature  of  the  wounds,  one  of 
which,  near  the  hip,  may  be  scientifically  called  "- 

"  But  we  know  at  what  distance  a  ball  is  spent," 
broke  in  M.  Seneschal,  whom  the  doctor's  dogmatic 
tone  began  to  annoy. 

"  Ah,  do  we  know  that,  indeed  ?  You  know  it,  M. 
Seneschal?  Well,  I  declare  I  do  not  know  it.  To  be 
sure,  I  bear  in  mind,  what  you  seem  to  forget,  that  we 
have  no  longer,  as  in  former  days,  only  three  or  four 
kinds  of  guns.  Did  you  think  of  the  immense  variety 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       29 

of  fire-arms,  French  and  English,  American  and  Ger- 
man, which  are  nowadays  found  in  everybody's  hands  ? 
Do  you  not  see,  you  who  have  been  a  lawyer  and  a 
magistrate,  that  the  whole  legal  question  will  be  based 
upon  this  grave  and  all-important  point  ?  " 

Thereupon  the  physician  resumed  his  instruments, 
resolved  to  give  no  other  answer,  and  was  about  to  go 
to  work  once  more,  when  fearful  cries  were  heard  with- 
out ;  and  the  lawyers,  the  mayor,  and  the  countess  her- 
self, rushed  at  once  to  the  door. 

These  cries  were,  unfortunately,  not  uttered  without 
cause.  The  roof  of  the  main  building  had  just  fallen 
in,  burying  under  its  ruins  the  poor  drummer  who  had 
a  few  hours  ago  beaten  the  alarm,  and  one  of  the  fire- 
men, the  most  respected  carpenter  in  Sauveterre,  and  a 
father  of  five  children. 

Capt.  Parenteau  seemed  to  be  maddened  by  this 
disaster;  and  all  vied  with  each  other  in  efforts  to 
rescue  the  poor  fellows,  who  were  uttering  shrieks  of 
horror  that  rose  high  above  the  crash  of  falling  tim- 
bers. But  all  their  endeavors  were  unavailing.  One 
of  the  gendarmes  and  a  farmer,  who  had  nearly  suc- 
ceeded in  reaching  the  sufferers,  barely  escaped  being 
burnt  themselves,  and  were  only  rescued  after  having 
been  dangerously  injured.  Then  only  it  seemed  as 
if  all  became  fully  aware  of  the  abominable  crime  com- 
mitted by  the  incendiary.  Then  only  the  clouds  of 
smoke  and  the  columns  of  fire,  which  rose  high  into 
the  air,  were  accompanied  by  fierce  cries  of  vengeance 
rising  heavenwards. 

"  Death  to  the  incendiary !    Death !  " 

At  this  moment  M.  Seneschal  felt  himself  inspired 
with  a  sudden  thought.  He  knew  how  cautious  pea 


3o       WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

sants  are,  and  how  difficult  it  is  to  make  them  tell  what 
they  know.  He  climbed,  therefore,  upon  a  heap  of 
fallen  beams,  and  said  in  a  clear,  loud  voice, — 

"  Yes,  my  friends,  you  are  right :  death  to  the  in- 
cendiary !  Yes,  the  unfortunate  victims  of  the  basest 
of  all  crimes  must  be  avenged.  We  must  find  out  the 
incendiary ;  we  must !  You  want  it  to  be  done,  don't 
you?  Well,  it  depends  only  on  you.  There  must  be 
some  one  among  you  who  knows  something  about  this 
matter.  Let  him  come  forward  and  tell  us  what  he  has 
seen  or  heard.  Remember  that  the  smallest  trifle  may 
be  a  clew  to  the  crime.  You  would  be  as  bad  as  the 
incendiary  himself,  if  you  concealed  him.  Just  think 
it  over,  consider." 

Loud  voices  were  heard  in  the  crowd ;  then  suddenly 
a  voice  said, — 

"  There  is  one  here  who  can  tell." 

"Who?" 

"  Cocoleu.  He  was  there  from  the  beginning.  It 
was  he  who  went  and  brought  the  children  of  the 
countess  out  of  their  room.  What  has  become  of 
him  ? — Cocoleu,  Cocoleu !  " 

One  must  have  lived  in  the  country,  among  these 
simple-minded  peasants,  to  understand  the  excitement 
and  the  fury  of  all  these  men  and  women  as  they 
crowded  around  the  ruins  of  Valpinson.  People  in 
town  do  not  mind  brigands,  in  general :  they  have  their 
gas,  their  strong  doors,  and  the  police.  They  are  gen- 
erally little  afraid  of  fire.  They  have  their  fire- 
alarms  ;  and  at  the  first  spark  the  neighbor  cries, 
"  Fire !  "  The  engines  come  racing  up ;  and  water 
comes  forth  as  if  by  magic.  But  it  is  very  different 
in  the  country:  here  every  man  is  constantly  under  a 
sense  of  his  isolation.  A  simple  latch  protects  his 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       31 

door ;  and  no  one  watches  over  his  safety  at  night.  If 
a  murderer  should  attack  him,  his  cries  could  bring  no 
help.  If  fire  should  break  out,  his  house  would  be 
burnt  down  before  the  neighbors  could  reach  it;  and 
he  is  happy  who  can  save  his  own  life  and  that  of  his 
family.  Hence  all  these  good  people,  whom  the  may- 
or's words  had  deeply  excited,  were  eager  to  find  out 
the  only  man  who  knew  anything  about  this  calamity, 
Cocoleu. 

He  was  well  known  among  them,  and  for  many 
years. 

There  was  not  one  among  them  who  had  not  given 
him  a  piece  of  bread,  or  a  bowl  of  soup,  when  he  was 
hungry;  not  one  of  them  had  ever  refused  him  a 
night's  rest  on  the  straw  in  his  barn,  when  it  was  rain- 
ing or  freezing,  and  the  poor  fellow  wanted  a  shelter. 

For  Cocoleu  was  one  of  those  unfortunate  beings 
who  labor  under  a  grievous  physical  or  moral  deform- 
ity. 

Some  twenty  years  ago,  a  wealthy  land-owner  in 
Brechy  had  sent  to  the  nearest  town  for  half  a  dozen 
painters,  whom  he  kept  at  his  house  nearly  a  whole 
summer,  painting  and  decorating  his  newly-built  house. 
One  of  these  men  had  seduced  a  girl  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, whom  he  had  bewitched  by  his  long  white  blouse, 
his  handsome  brown  mustache,  his  good  spirits,  gay 
songs,  and  flattering  speeches.  But,  when  the  work 
was  done,  the  tempter  had  flown  away  with  the  others, 
without  thinking  any  more  of  the  poor  girl  than  of 
the  last  cigar  which  he  had  smoked. 

And  yet  she  was  expecting  a  child.  When  she  could 
no  longer  conceal  her  condition,  she  was  turned  out  of 
the  house  in  which  she  had  been  employed ;  and  her 
family,  unable  to  support  themselves,  drove  her  away 


32       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

without  mercy.  Overcome  with  grief,  shame,  and  re- 
morse, poor  Colette  wandered  from  farm  to  farm, 
begging,  insulted,  laughed  at,  beaten  even  at  times. 
Thus  it  came  about,  that  in  a  dark  wood,  one  dismal 
winter  evening,  she  gave  life  to  a  male  child.  No  one 
ever  understood  how  mother  and  child  managed  to  sur- 
vive. But  both  lived ;  and  for  many  a  year  they  were 
seen  in  and  around  Sauveterre,  covered  with  rags,  and 
living  upon  the  dear-bought  generosity  of  the  peasants. 

Then  the  mdther  died,  utterly  forsaken  by  human 
help,  as  she  had  lived.  They  found  her  body,  one 
morning,  in  a  ditch  by  the  wayside. 

The  child  survived  alone.  He  was  then  eight  years 
old,  quite  strong  and  tall  for  his  age.  A  farmer  took 
pity  on  him,  and  took  him  home.  The  little  wretch 
was  not  fit  for  anything:  he  could  not  even  keep  his 
master's  cows.  During  his  mother's  lifetime,  his  si- 
lence, his  wild  looks,  and  his  savage  appearance,  had 
been  attributed  to  his  wretched  mode  of  life.  But 
when  people  began  to  be  interested  in  him,  they  found 
out  that  his  intellect  had  never  been  aroused.  He  was 
an  idiot,  and,  besides,  subject  to  that  terrible  nervous 
affection  which  at  times  shakes  the  whole  body  and  dis- 
figures the  face  by  the  violence  of  uncontrollable  con- 
vulsions. He  was  not  a  deaf-mute ;  but  he  could  only 
stammer  out  with  intense  difficulty  a  few  disjointed 
syllables.  Sometimes  the  country-people  would  say  to 
him, — 

"  Tell  us  your  name,  and  you  shall  have  a  cent." 

Then  it  took  him  five  minutes'  hard  work  to  utter, 
amid  a  thousand  painful  contortions,  the  name  of  his 
mother. 

"  Co-co-co-lette." 

Hence  came  his  name  Cocoleu.  It  had  been  ascer- 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF  HIS   LIFE      33 

tained  that  he  was  utterly  unable  to  do  anything;  and 
people  ceased  to  interest  themselves  in  his  behalf.  The 
consequence  was,  that  he  became  a  vagabond  as  of  old. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Dr.  Seignebos,  on  one 
of  his  visits,  met  him  one  day  on  the  public  road. 

This  excellent  man  had,  among  other  extraordinary 
notions,  the  conviction  that  idiocy  is  nothing  more  than 
a  defective  state  of  the  brains,  which  may  be  remedied 
by  the  use  of  certain  well-known  substances,  such 
as  phosphorus,  for  instance.  He  lost  no  time  in 
seizing  upon  this  admirable  opportunity  to  test 
his  theory.  Cocoleu  was  sent  for,  and  installed  in 
his  house.  He  subjected  him  to  a  treatment  which  he 
kept  secret;  and  only  a  druggist  at  Sauveterre,  who 
was  also  well  known  as  entertaining  very  extraordinary 
notions,  knew  what  had  happened.  At  the  end  of 
eighteen  months,  Cocoleu  had  fallen  off  terribly:  he 
talked  perhaps,  a  little  more  fluently;  but  his  intellect 
had  not  been  perceptibly  improved. 

Dr.  Seignebos  was  discouraged.  He  made  up  a 
parcel  of  things  which  he  had  given  to  his  patient,  put 
it  into  his  hands,  pushed  him  out  of  his  door,  and  told 
him  never  to  come  back  again. 

The  doctor  had  rendered  Cocoleu  a  sad  service.    The 

* 

poor  idiot  had  lost  the  habit  of  privation:  he  had  for- 
gotten how  to  go  from  door  to  door,  asking  for  alms ; 
and  he  would  have  perished,  if  his  good  fortune  had  not 
led  him  to  knock  at  the  door  of  the  house  at  Valpinson. 
Count  Claudieuse  and  his  wife  were  touched  by  his 
wretchedness,  and  determined  to  take  charge  of  him. 
They  gave  him  a  room  and  a  bed  at  one  of  the  farm- 
houses ;  but  they  could  never  induce  him  to  stay  there. 
He  was  by  nature  a  vagabond;  and  the  instinct  was 
too  strong  for  him.  In  winter,  frost  and  snow  kept  him 


34       WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

in  for  a  little  while ;  but,  as  soon  as  the  first  leaves  came 
out,  he  went  wandering  again  through  forest  and  field, 
remaining  absent  often  for  weeks  altogether. 

At  last,  however,  something  seemed  to  have  been 
aroused  in  him,  which  looked  like  the  instinct  of  a  do- 
mesticated animal.  His  attachment  to  the  countess  re- 
sembled that  of  a  dog,  even  in  the  capers  and  cries  with 
which  he  greeted  her  whenever  he  saw  her.  Often, 
when  she  went  out,  he  accompanied  her,  running  and 
frolicking  around  her  just  like  a  dog.  He  was  also  very 
fond  of  little  girls,  and  seemed  to  resent  it  when  he  was 
kept  from  them:  for  people  were  afraid  his  nervous 
attacks  might  affect  the  children. 

With  time  he  had  also  become  capable  of  perform- 
ing some  simple  service.  He  could  be  intrusted  with 
certain  messages :  he  could  water  the  flowers,  summon 
a  servant,  or  even  carry  a  letter  to  the  post-office  at 
Brechy.  His  progress  in  this  respect  was  so  marked, 
that  some  of  the  more  cunning  peasants  began  to  sus- 
pect that  Cocoleu  was  not  so  "  innocent,"  after  all,  as 
he  looked,  and  that  he  was  cleverly  playing  the  fool  in 
order  to  enjoy  life  easily. 

"  We  have  him  at  last,"  cried  several  voices  at  once. 
"  Here  he  is ;  here,  he  is !  " 

The  crowd  made  way  promptly ;  and  almost  immedi- 
ately a  young  man  appeared,  led  and  pushed  forward 
by  several  persons.  Cocoleu's  clothes,  all  in  disorder, 
showed  clearly  that  he  had  offered  a  stout  resistance. 
He  was  a  youth  of  about  eighteen  years,  very  tall,  quite 
beardless,  excessively  thin,  and  so  loosely  jointed,  that 
he  looked  like  a  hunchback.  A  mass  of  reddish  hair 
came  down  his  low,  retreating  forehead.  His  small 
eyes,  his  enormous  mouth  bristling  with  sharp  teeth, 
his  broad  flat  nose,  and  his  immense  ears,  gave  to  his 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       35 

face  a  strange  idiotic  expression,  and  to  his  whole  ap- 
pearance a  most  painful  brutish  air. 

"  What  must  we  do  with  him  ?  "  asked  the  peasants 
of  the  mayor. 

"  We  must  take  him  before  the  magistrate,  my 
friends,"  replied  M.  Seneschal, — "  down  there  in  that 
cottage,  where  you  have  carried  the  count." 

"  And  we'll  make  him  talk,"  threatened  his  captors. 
"  You  hear !  Go  on,  quick !  " 


IV. 

M.  GALPIN  and  the  doctor  had  both  considered  it 
a  point  of  honor  who  should  show  the  most  perfect 
indifference ;  and  thus  they  had  betrayed  by  no  sign 
their  curiosity  to  know  what  was  going  on  out  doors. 
Dr.  Seignebos  was  on  the  point  of  resuming  the  opera- 
tion ;  and,  as  coolly  as  if  he  had  been  in  his  own  rooms 
at  home,  he  was  washing  the  sponge  which  he  had  just 
used,  and  wiping  his  instruments.  The  magistrate, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  standing  in  the  centre  of  the 
room,  his  arms  crossed,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  infi- 
nite, apparently.  It  may  be  he  was  thinking  of  his 
star  which  had  at  last  brought  him  that  famous  crimi- 
nal case  for  which  he  had  ardently  longed  many  a 
year. 

Count  Claudieuse,  however,  was  very  far  from  shar- 
ing their  reserve.  He  was  tossing  about  on  his  bed ; 
and  as  soon  as  the  mayor  and  his  friend  reappeared, 
looking  quite  upset,  he  exclaimed, — 

"  What  does  that  uproar  mean  ?  " 

And,  when  he  had  heard  of  the  calamity,  he 
added, — 


36       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Great  God !  And  I  was  complaining  of  my  losses. 
Two  men  killed !  That  is  a  real  misfortune.  Poor 
men!  to  die  because  they  were  so  brave, — Bolton 
hardly  thirty  years  old ;  Guillebault,  a  father  of  a 
family,  who  leaves  five  children,  and  not  a  cent !  " 

The  countess,  coming  in  at  that  moment,  heard  his 
last  words. 

"  As  long  as  we  have  a  mouthful  of  bread,"  she 
said  in  a  voice  full  of  deep  emotion,  "  neither  Bolton's 
mother,  nor  Guillebault's  children,  shall  ever  know 
what  want  is." 

She  could  not  say  another  word ;  for  at  that  moment 
the  peasants  crowded  into  the  room,  pushing  the  pris- 
oner before  them. 

"  Where  is  the  magistrate  ?  "  they  asked.  "  Here  is 
a  witness !  " 

"  What,  Cocoleu  !  "  exclaimed  the  count. 

"  Yes,  he  knows  something :  he  said  so  himself.  We 
want  him  to  tell  it  to  the  magistrate.  We  want  the  in- 
cendiary to  be  caught." 

Dr.  Seignebos  had  frowned  fiercely.  He  execrated 
Cocoleu,  whose  sight  recalled  to  him  that  great  failure 
which  the  good  people  of  Sauveterre  were  not  likely 
to  forget  soon. 

"  You  do  not  really  mean  to  examine  him  ? "  he 
asked,  turning  to  M.  Galpin. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  answered  the  magistrate  dryly. 

"  Because  he  is  an  imbecile,  sir,  an  idiot.  Because 
he  cannot  possibly  understand  your  questions,  or  the 
importance  of  his  answers." 

"  He  may  give  us  a  valuable  hint,  nevertheless." 

"He?  A  man  who  has  no  sense?  You  don't 
really  think  so.  The  law  cannot  attach  any  impor- 
tance to  the  evidence  of  a  fool." 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       37 

M.  Galpin  betrayed  his  impatience  by  an  increase 
of  stiffness,  as  he  replied, — 

"  I  know  my  duty,  sir." 

"  And  I,"  replied  the  physician, — "  I  also  know 
what  I  have  to  do.  You  have  summoned  me  to  assist 
you  in  this  investigation.  I  obey;  and  I  declare  of- 
ficially, that  the  mental  condition  of  this  unfortunate 
man  makes  his  evidence  utterly  worthless.  I  appeal 
to  the  commonwealth  attorney." 

He  had  hoped  for  a  word  of  encouragement  from 
M.  Daubigeon;  but  nothing  came.  Then  he  went 
on, — 

"  Take  care,  sir,  or  you  may  get  yourself  into  trou- 
ble. What  would  you  do  if  this  poor  fellow  should 
make  a  formal  charge  against  any  one?  Could  you 
attach  any  weight  to  his  word  ?  " 

The  peasants  were  listening  with  open  mouths. 
One  of  them  said, — 

"  Oh !  Cocoleu  is  not  so  innocent  as  he  looks." 

"  He  can  say  very  well  what  he  wants  to  say,  the 
scamp !  "  added  another. 

"  At  all  events,  I  am  indebted  to  him  for  the  life 
of  my  children,"  said  the  count  gently.  "  He  thought 
of  them  when  I  was  unconscious,  and  when  no  one 
else  remembered  them.  Come,  Cocoleu,  come  nearer, 
my  friend,  don't  be  afraid :  there  is  no  one  here  to  hurt 
you." 

It  was  very  well  the  count  used  such  kind  words ; 
for  Cocoleu  was  thoroughly  terrified  by  the  brutal 
treatment  he  had  received,  and  was  trembling  in  all  his 
limbs. 

"  I  am — not — a — afraid,"  he  stammered  out. 

"  Once  more  I  protest,"  said  the  physician. 

He  had  found  out  that  he  stood  not  alone  in  his 


38       WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

opinion.  Count  Claudieuse  came  to  his  assistance, 
saying,— 

"  I  really  think  it  might  be  dangerous  to  question 
Cocoleu." 

But  the  magistrate  was  master  of  the  situation,  and 
conscious  of  all  the  powers  conferred  upon  him  by 
the  laws  of  France  in  such  cases. 

"  I  must  beg,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  which 
did  not  allow  of  any  reply, — "  I  must  beg  to  be  per- 
mitted to  act  in  my  own  way." 

And  sitting  down,  he  asked  Cocoleu, — 

"  Come,  my  boy,  listen  to  me,  and  try  to  under- 
stand what  I  say.  Do  you  know  what  has  happened 
at  Valpinson  ?  " 

"  Fire,"  replied  the  idiot. 

"  Yes,  my  friend,  fire,  which  burns  down  the  house 
of  your  benefactor, — fire,  which  has  killed  two  good 
men.  But  that  is  not  all :  they  have  tried  to  murder 
the  count.  Do  you  see  him  there  in  his  bed,  wounded, 
and  covered  with  blood?  Do  you  see  the  countess, 
how  she  suffers  ?  " 

Did  Cocoleu  follow  him?  His  distorted  features 
betrayed  nothing  of  what  might  be  going  on  within 
him. 

"  Nonsense !  "  growled  the  doctor,  "  what  obstinacy ! 
what  folly!" 

M.  Galpin  heard  him,  and  said  angrily, — 

"  Sir,  do  not  force  me  to  remind  you  that  I  have, 
not  far  from  here,  men  whose  duty  it  is  to  see  that 
my  authority  is  respected  here." 

Then,  turning  again  to  the  poor  idiot,  he  went  on, — 

"  All  these  misfortunes  are  the  work  of  a  vile  in- 
cendiary. You  hate  him,  don't  you;  you  detest  him, 
the  rascal ! " 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       39 

"  Yes,"  said  Cocoleu. 

"  You  want  him  to  be  punished,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes !  " 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  help  me  to  find  him  out, 
so  that  the  gendarmes  may  catch  him,  and  put  him  in 
jail.  You  know  who  it  is;  you  have  told  these  peo- 
ple and  "— 

He  paused,  and  after  a  moment,  as  Cocoleu  kept 
silent,  he  asked, — 

"  But,  now  I  think  of  it,  whom  has  this  poor  fellow 
talked  to?" 

Not  one  of  the  peasants  could  tell.  They  inquired  ; 
but  no  answer  came.  Perhaps  Cocoleu  had  never  said 
what  he  was  reported  to  have  said. 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  one  of  the  tenants  at  Valpin- 
son,  "  that  the  poor  devil,  so  to  say,  never  sleeps,  and 
that  he  is  roaming1  about  all  night  around  the  house 
and  the  farm  buildings." 

This  was  a  new  light  for  M.  Galpin;  suddenly 
changing  the  form  of  his  interrogatory,  he  asked  Coco- 
leu,— 

"  Where  did  you  spend  the  night  ?  " 

"  In — in — the — court — yard." 

"  Were  you  asleep  when  the  fire  broke  out  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Did  you  see  it  commence  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  How  did  it  commence?  " 

The  idiot  looked  fixedly  at  the  Countess  Claudieuse 
with  the  timid  and  abject  expression  of  a  dog  who 
tries  to  read  something  in  his  master's  eyes. 

"  Tell  us,  my  friend,"  said  the  Countess  gently, — 
"  tell  us." 

A  flash  of  intelligence  shone  in  Cocoleu's  eyes. 


40      WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  They — they  set  it  on  fire,"  he  stammered. 

"  On  purpose  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Who?" 

"  A  gentleman." 

There  was  not  a  person  present  at  this  extraordinary 
scene  who  did  not  anxiously  hold  his  breath  as  the 
word  was  uttered.  The  doctor  alone  kept  cool,  and 
exclaimed, — 

"  Such  an  examination  is  sheer  folly !  " 

But  the  magistrate  did  not  seem  to  hear  his  words ; 
and,  turning  to  Cocoleu,  he  asked  him,  in  a  deeply- 
agitated  tone  of  voice  ? — 

"  Did  you  see  the  gentleman  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  know  who  he  is  ?  " 

"  Very — very — well." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  " 

"  What  is  his  name  ?     Tell  us." 

Cocoleu's  features  betrayed  the  fearful  anguish  of 
his  mind.  He  hesitated,  and  at  last  he  answered,  mak- 
a  violent  effort, — "  Bois — Bois — Boiscoran  !  " 

The  name  was  received  with  murmurs  of  indigna- 
tion and  incredulous  laughter.  There  was  not  a 
shadow  of  doubt  or  of  suspicion.  The  peasants 
said, — 

"  M.  de  Boiscoran  an  incendiary !  Who  does  he 
think  will  believe  that  story  ?  " 

"  It  is  absurd !  "  said  Count  Claudieuse. 

"  Nonsense !  "  repeated  the  mayor  and  his  friend. 

Dr.  Siegnebos  had  taken  off  his  spectacles,  and  was 
wiping  them  with  an  air  of  intense  satisfaction. 

"  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  "  he  exclaimed.     "  But  the 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       41 

gentleman  did  not  condescend  to  attach  any  impor- 
tance to  my  suggestions." 

The  magistrate  was  by  far  the  most  excited  man 
in  the  crowd.  He  had  turned  excessively  pale,  and 
made,  visibly,  the  greatest  efforts  to  preserve  his  equa- 
nimity. The  commonwealth  attorney  leaned  over  to- 
wards him,  and  whispered, — 

"  If  I  were  in  your  place,  I  would  stop  here,  and 
consider  the  answer  as  not  given." 

But  M.  Galpin  was  one  of  those  men  who  are 
blinded  by  self-conceit,  and  who  would  rather  be  cut 
to  pieces  than  admit  that  they  have  been  mistaken. 
He  answered, — 

"  I  shall  go  on." 

Then  turning  once  more  to  Cocoleu,  in  the  midst 
of  so  deep  a  silence  that  the  buzzing  of  a  fly  would 
have  been  distinctly  heard,  he  asked, — 

"  Do  you  know,  my  boy,  what  you  say  ?  Do  you 
know  that  you  are  accusing  a  man  of  a  horrible 
crime  ?  " 

Whether  Cocoleu  understood,  or  not,  he  was  evi- 
dently deeply  agitated.  Big  drops  of  perspiration 
rolled  slowly  down  his  temples;  and  nervous  shocks 
agitated  his  limbs,  and  convulsed  his  features. 

"  I,  I— am — telling  the — truth !  "  he  said  at  last. 

"  M.  de  Boiscoran  has  set  Valpinson  on  fire  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"How  did  he  do  it?" 

Cocoleu's  restless  eyes  wandered  incessantly  from 
the  count,  who  looked  indignant,  to  the  countess,  who 
seemed  to  listen  with  painful  surprise.  The  magis- 
trate repeated, — 

"Speak!" 

After  another  moment's  hesitation,  the  idiot  began 


42       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

to  explain  what  he  had  seen;  and  it  took  him  many 
minutes  to  state,  amid  countless  contortions,  and  pain- 
ful efforts  to  speak,  that  he  had  seen  M.  de  Boiscoran 
pull  out  some  papers  from  his  pocket,  light  them  with 
a  match,  put  them  under  a  rick  of  straw  near  by,  and 
push  the  burning  mass  towards  two  enormous  piles 
of  wood  which  were  in  close  contact  with  a  vat  full 
of  spirits. 

"  This  is  sheer  nonsense !  "  cried  the  doctor,  thus 
giving  words  to  what  they  all  seemed  to  feel. 

But  M.  Galpin  had  mastered  his  excitement.  He 
said  solemnly, — 

"  At  the  first  sign  of  applause  or  of  displeasure,  I 
shall  send  for  the  gendarmes,  and  have  the  room 
cleared." 

Then,  turning  once  more  to  Cocoleu,  he  said, — 

"  Since  you  saw  M.  de  Boiscoran  so  distinctly,  tell 
us  how  he  was  dressed." 

"  He  had  light  trousers  on,"  replied  the  idiot,  stam- 
mering still  most  painfully,  "  a  dark-brown  shooting- 
jacket,  and  a  big  straw  hat.  His  trousers  were  stuffed 
into  his  boots." 

Two  or  three  peasants  looked  at  each  other,  as  if 
they  had  at  last  hit  upon  a  suspicious  fact.  The  cos- 
tume which  Cocoleu  had  so  accurately  described  was 
well  known  to  them  all." 

"  And  when  he  had  kindled  the  fire,"  said  the  mag- 
istrate again,  "  what  did  he  do  next  ?  " 

"  He  hid  behind  the  woodpile." 

"And  then?" 

"  He  loaded  his  gun,  and,  when  master  came  out, 
he  fired." 

Count  Claudieuse  was  so  indignant  that  he  forgot 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       43 

the  pain  which  his  wounds  caused  him,  and  raised 
himself  on  his  bed. 

"  It  is  monstrous,"  he  exclaimed,  "  to  allow  an  idiot 
to  charge  an  honorable  man  with  such  a  crime !  If 
he  really  saw  M.  de  Boiscoran  set  the  house  on  fire, 
and  hide  himself  in  order  to  murder  me,  why  did  he 
not  come  and  warn  me  ?  " 

M.  Galpin  repeated  the  question  submissively,  to 
the  great  amazement  of  the  mayor  and  M.  Daubi- 
geon.  « 

"  Why  did  you  not  give  warning  ?  "  he  asked  Coco- 
leu. 

But  the  efforts  which  the  unfortunate  man  had 
made  during  the  last  half-hour  had  exhausted  his  little 
strength.  He  broke  out  into  stupid  laughter;  and 
almost  instantly  one  of  his  fearful  nervous  attacks 
overcame  him :  he  fell  down  yelling,  and  had  to  be 
carried  away. 

The  magistrate  had  risen,  pale  and  deeply  excited, 
but  evidently  meditating  on  what  was  to  be  done  next. 
The  commonwealth  attorney  asked  him  in  an  under- 
tone what  he  was  going  to  do;  and  the  lawyer  re- 
plied,— 

"  Prosecute ! " 

"What?" 

"  Can  I  do  otherwise  in  my  position  ?  God  is  my 
witness  that  I  tried  my  best,  by  urging  this  poor  idiot, 
to  prove  the  absurdity  of  his  accusation.  But  the  re- 
sult has  disappointed  me." 

"And  now?" 

"  Now  I  can  no  longer  hesitate.  There  have  been 
ten  witnesses  present  at  the  examination.  My  honor 
is  at  stake.  I  must  establish  either  the  guilt  or  the 


44       WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

innocence  of  the  man  whom  Cocoleu  accuses."  Im- 
mediately, walking  up  to  the  count's  bed,  he  asked, — 

"  Will  you  have  the  kindness,  Count  Claudieuse,  to 
tell  me  what  your  relations  are  to  M.  de  Boiscoran?" 

Surprise  and  indignation  caused  the  wounded  man 
to  blush  deeply. 

"  Can  it  be  possible,  sir,  that  you  believe  the  words 
of  that  idiot  ?  " 

"  I  believe  nothing,"  answered  the  magistrate.  "  My 
duty  is  to  unravel  the  truth ;  and  I  mean  to  do  it." 

"  The  doctor  has  told  you  what  the  state  of  Coco- 
leu's  mind  is?  " 

"  Count,  I  beg  you  will  answer  my  question." 

Count  Claudieuse  looked  angry;  but  he  replied 
promptly, — 

"  My  relations  with  M.  de  Boiscoran  are  neither 
good  nor  bad.  We  have  none." 

"  It  is  reported,  I  have  heard  it  myself,  that  you 
are  on  bad  terms." 

"  On  no  terms  at  all.  I  never  leave  Valpinson,  and 
M.  de  Boiscoran  spends  nine  months  of  the  year  in 
Paris.  He  has  never  called  at  my  house,  and  I  have 
never  been  in  his." 

"  You  have  been  overheard  speaking  of  him  in  un- 
measured terms." 

"  That  may  be.  We  are  neither  of  the  same  age, 
nor  have  we  the  same  tastes  or  the  same  opinions. 
He  is  young :  I  am  old.  He  likes  Paris  and  the  great 
world :  I  am  fond  of  solitude  and  hunting.  I  am  a 
Legitimist :  he  used  to  be  an  Orleanist,  and  now  he  is 
a  Republican.  I  believe  that  the  descendant  of  our 
old  kings  alone  can  save  the  country;  and  he  is  con- 
vinced that  the  happiness  of  France  is  possible  only 
tinder  a  Republic.  But  two  men  may  be  enemies,  and 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       45 

yet  esteem  each  other.  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  an  hon- 
orable man :  he  has  done  his  duty  bravely  in  the  war, 
he  has  fought  well,  and  has  been  wounded." 

M.  Galpin  noted  down  these  answers  with  extreme 
care.  When  he  had  done  so,  he  continued, — 

"  The  question  is  not  one  of  political  opinions  only. 
You  have  had  personal  difficulties  with  M.  de  Bois- 
coran." 

"  Of  no  importance." 

"  I  beg  pardon :  you  have  been  at  law." 

"  Our  estates  adjoin  each  other.  There  is  an  un- 
lucky brook  between  us,  which  is  a  source  of  constant 
trouble  to  the'  neighbors." 

M.  Galpin  shook  his  head,  and  added, — 

"  These  are  not  the  only  difficulties  you  have  had 
with  each  other.  Everybody  in  the  country  knows 
that  you  have  had  violent  altercations." 

Count  Claudieuse  seemed  to  be  in  great  distress. 

"  It  is  true :  we  have  used  hard  words.  M.  de  Bois- 
coran had  two  wretched  dogs  that  were  continually 
escaping  from  his  kennels,  and  came  hunting  in  my 
fields.  You  cannot  imagine  how  much  game  they 
destroyed." 

"  Exactly  so.  And  one  day  you  met  M.  de  Bois- 
coran, and  you  warned  him  that  you  would  shoot  his 
dogs." 

"  I  must  confess  I  was  furious.  But  I  was  wrong, 
a  thousand  times  wrong :  I  did  threaten  " — 

"  That  is  it.  You  were  both  of  you  armed.  You 
threatened  one  another:  he  actually  aimed  at  you. 
Don't  deny  it.  A  number  of  persons  have  seen  it; 
and  I  know  it.  He  has  told  me  so  himself." 


46       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

V. 

THERE  was  not  a  person  in  the  whole  district  who 
did  not  know  of  what  a  fearful  disease  poor  Cocoleu 
was  suffering;  and  everybody  knew,  also,  that  it  was 
perfectly  useless  to  try  and  help  him.  The  two  men 
who  had  taken  him  out  had  therefore  laid  him  simply 
on  a  pile  of  wet  straw,  and  then  they  had  left  him  to 
himself,  eager  as  they  were  to  see  and  hear  what  was 
going  on. 

It  must  be  said,  in  justice  to  the  several  hundred 
peasants  who  were  crowding  around  the  smoking 
ruins  of  Valpinson,  that  they  treated  the  madman  who 
had  accused  M.  de  Boiscoran  of  such  a  crime,  neither 
with  cruel  jokes  nor  with  fierce  curses.  Unfortu- 
nately, first  impulses,  which  are  apt  to  be  good  im- 
pulses, do  not  last  long.  One  of  those  idle  good-for- 
nothings,  drunkards,  envious  scamps  who  are  found 
in  every  community,  in  the  country  as  well  as  in  the 
city,  cried  out, — 

"And  why  not?" 

These  few  words  opened  at  once  a  door  to  all  kinds 
of  bold  guesses. 

Everybody  had  heard  something  about  the  quarrel 
betwen  Count  Claudieuse  and  M.  de  Boiscoran.  It 
was  well  known,  moreover,  that  the  provocation  had 
always  come  from  the  count,  and  that  the  latter  had 
invariably  given  way  in  the  end.  Why,  therefore, 
might  not  M.  de  Boiscoran,  impatient  at  last,  have 
resorted  to  such  means  in  order  to  avenge  himself  on 
a  man  whom  they  thought  he  must  needs  hate,  and 
whom  he  probably  feared  at  the  same  time? 

"  Perhaps  he  would  not  do  it,  because  he  is  a  noble- 
man, and  because  he  is  rich  ?  "  they  added  sneeringly. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       47 

The  next  step  was,  of  course,  to  look  out  for  cir- 
cumstances which  might  support  such  a  theory;  and 
the  opportunity  was  not  lacking.  Groups  were 
formed;  and  soon  two  men  and  a  woman  declared 
aloud  that  they  could  astonish  the  world  if  they  chose 
to  talk.  They  were  urged  to  tell  what  they  knew ; 
and,  of  course,  they  refused.  But  they  had  said  too 
much  already.  Willing  or  not  willing,  they  were  car- 
ried up  to  the  house,  where,  at  that  very  moment,  M. 
Galpin  was  examining  Count  Claudieuse.  The  ex- 
cited crowd  made  such  a  disturbance,  that  M.  Sene- 
schal, trembling  at  the  idea  of  a  new  accident,  rushed 
out  to  the  door. 

"  What  is  it  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  More  witnesses,"  replied  the  peasants.  "  Here 
are  some  more  witnesses." 

The  mayor  turned  round,  and,  after  having  ex- 
changed glances  with  M.  Daubigeon,  he  said  to  the 
magistrate, — 

"  They  are  bringing  you  some  more  witnesses,  sir." 

No  doubt  M.  Galpin  was  little  pleased  at  the  inter- 
ruption; but  he  knew  the  people  well  enough  to  bear 
in  mind,  that,  unless  he  took  them  at  the  moment  when 
they  were  willing  to  talk,  he  might  never  be  able  to 
get  any  thing  out  of  them  at  any  other  time. 

"  We  shall  return  some  other  time  to  our  conversa- 
tion," he  said  to  Count  Claudieuse. 

Then,  replying  to  M.  Seneschal,  he  said, — 

"  Let  the  witnesses  come  in,  but  one  by  one." 

The  first  who  entered  was  the  only  son  of  a  well- 
to-do  farmer  in  the  village  of  Brechy,  called  Ribot. 
He  was  a  young  fellow  of  about  twenty-five,  broad- 
shouldered,  with  a  very  small  head,  a  low  brow,  and 
formidable  crimson  ears.  For  twenty  miles  all  around, 


48       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

he  was  reputed  to  be  an  irresistible  beau, — a  reputa- 
tion of  which  he  was  very  proud.  After  having  asked 
him  his  name,  his  first  names,  and  his  age,  M.  Galpin 
said, — 

"What  do  you  know?" 

The  young  man  straightened  himself,  and  with  a 
marvellously  conceited  air,  which  set  all  the  peasants 
a-laughing,  he  replied, — 

"  I  was  out  that  night  on  some  little  private  busi- 
ness of  my  own.  I  was  on  the  other  side  of  the 
chateau  of  Boiscoran.  Somebody  was  waiting  for 
me,  and  I  was  behind  time :  so  I  cut  right  across  the 
marsh.  I  knew  the  rains  of  the  last  days  would  have 
filled  all  the  ditches ;  but,  when  a  man  is  out  on  such 
important  business  as  mine  was,  he  can  always  find  his 
way  " — 

"  Spare  us  those  tedious  details,"  said  the  magis- 
trate coldly.  The  handsome  fellow  looked  surprised, 
rather  than  offended,  by  the  interruption,  and  then 
went  on, — 

"  As  your  Honor  desires.  Well,  it  was  about  eight 
o'clock,  or  a  little  more,  and  it  was  growing  dark, 
when  I  reached  the  Seille  swamps.  They  were  over- 
flowing; and  the  water  was  two  inches  above  the 
stones  of  the  canal.  .  I  asked  myself  how  I  should  get 
across  without  spoiling  my  clothes,  when  I  saw  M.  de 
Boiscoran  coming  towards  me  from  the  other  side." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  it  was  he?  " 

"Why,  I  should  think  so!  I  talked  to  him.  But 
stop,  he  was  not  afraid  of  getting  wet.  Without  much 
ado,  he  rolled  up  his  trousers,  stuffed  them  into  the 
tops  of  his  tall  boots,  and  went  right  through.  Just 
then  he  saw  me,  and  seemed  to  be  surprised.  I  was 
as  much  so  as  he  was.  '  Why,  is  it  you,  sir  ? '  I  said. 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE       49 

He  replied,  '  Yes :  I  have  to  see  somebody  at  Brechy.' 
That  was  very  probably  so ;  still  I  said  again,  '  But 
you  have  chosen  a  queer  way.'  He  laughed.  '  I  did 
not  know  the  swamps  were  overflowed/  he  answered, 
'  and  I  thought  I  would  shoot  some  snipes.'  As  he 
said  this,  he  showed  me  his  gun.  At  that  moment  I 
had  nothing  to  say ;  but  now,  when  I  think  it  over,  it 
looks  queer  to  me." 

M.  Galpin  had  written  down  the  statement  as  fast 
as  it  was  given.  Then  he  asked, — 

"How  was  M.  de  Boiscoran  dressed?" 

"  Stop.  He  had  grayish  trousers  on,  a  shooting- 
jacket  of  brown  velveteen,  and  a  broad-brimmed  pan- 
ama  hat." 

The  count  and  the  countess  looked  distressed  and 
almost  overcome;  nor  did  the  mayor  and  his  friend 
seem  to  be  less  troubled.  One  circumstance  in  Ribot's 
evidence  seemed  to  have  struck  them  with  peculiar 
force, — the  fact  that  he  had  seen  M,  de  Boiscoran 
push  his  trousers  inside  his  boots. 

"  You  can  go,"  said  M.  Galpin  to  the  young  man. 
"  Let  another  witness  come  in." 

The  next  one  was  an  old  man  of  bad  reputation, 
who  lived  alone  in  an  old  hut  two  miles  from  Valpin- 
son.  He  was  called  Father  Gaudry.  Unlike  young 
Ribot,  who  had  shown  great  assurance,  the  old  man 
looked  humble  and  cringing  in  his  dirty,  ill-smelling 
rags.  After  having  given  his  name,  he  said, — 

"  It  might  have  been  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  and  I 
was  going  through  the  forest  of  Rochepommier,  along 
one  of  the  little  by-paths  " — 

"  You  were  stealing  wood ! "  said  the  magistrate 
sternly. 

"  Great  God,  what  an  idea !  "  cried  the  old  man, 


So       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

raising  his  hands  to  heaven.  "  How  can  you  say  such 
a  thing !  I  steal  wood !  No,  my  dear  sir,  I  was  very 
quietly  going  to  sleep  in  the  forest,  so  as  to  be  up 
with  daylight,  and  gather  champignons  and  other 
mushrooms  to  sell  at  Sauveterre.  Well,  I  was  trot- 
ting along,  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  I  hear  footsteps  be- 
hind me.  Naturally,  I  was  frightened." 

"  Because  you  were  stealing!  " 

"  Oh,  no !  my  dear  sir ;  only,  at  night,  you  under- 
stand. Well,  I  hid  behind  a  tree;  and  almost  at  the 
same  moment  I  saw  M.  de  Boiscoran  pass  by.  I  rec- 
ognized him  perfectly  in  spite  of  the  dark;  for  he 
seemed  to  be  in  a  great  rage,  talked  loud  to  himself, 
swore,  gesticulated,  and  tore  handfuls  of  leaves  from 
the  branches." 

"  Did  he  have  a  gun  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear  sir ;  for  that  was  the  very  thing 
that  frightened  me  so.  I  thought  he  was  a  keeper." 

The  third  and  last  witness  was  a  good  old  woman, 
Mrs.  Courtois,  whose  little  farm  lay  on  the  other  side 
of  the  forest  of  Rochepommier.  When  she  was  asked, 
she  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  she  said, — 

"  I  do  not  know  much ;  but  I  will  tell  you  all  I  do 
know.  As  we  expected  to  have  a  house  full  of  work- 
men a  few  days  hence,  and  as  I  was  going  to  bake 
bread  to-morrow,  I  was  going  with  my  ass  to  the  mill 
on  Sauveterre  Mountain  to  fetch  flour.  The  miller 
had  not  any  ready ;  but  he  told  me,  if  I  could  wait,  he 
would  let  me  have  some :  and  so  I  staid  to  supper. 
About  ten  o'clock,  they  gave  me  a  bag  full  of  flour. 
The  boys  put  it  on  my  ass,  and  I  went  home.  I  was 
about  half-way,  and  it  was,  perhaps,  eleven  o'clock, 
when,  just  at  the  edge  of  the  forest  of  Rochepommier, 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       51 

my  ass  stumbled,  and  the  bag  fell  off.  I  had  a  great 
deal  of  trouble,  for  I  was  not  strong  enough  to  lift 
it  alone;  and  just  then  a  man  came  out  of  the  woods, 
quite  near  me.  I  called  to  him,  and  he  came.  It  was 
M.  de  Boiscoran :  I  ask  him  to  help  me ;  and  at 
once,  without  losing  a  moment,  he  puts  his  gun  down, 
lifts  the  bag  from  the  ground,  and  puts  it  on  my  ass. 
I  thank  him.  He  says,  '  Welcome,'  and — that  is  all." 

The  mayor  had  been  all  this  time  standing  in  the 
door  of  the  chamber,  performing  the  humble  duty  of  a 
doorkeeper,  and  barring  the  entrance  to  the  eager  and 
curious  crowd  outside.  When  Mrs.  Courtois  retired, 
quite  bewildered  by  her  own  words,  and  regretting 
what  she  had  said,  he  called  out, — 

"  Is  there  any  one  else  who  knows  any  thing  ?  " 

As  nobody  appeared,  he  closed  the  door,  and  said 
curtly, — 

"  Well,  then,  you  can  go  home  now,  my  friends. 
Let  the  law  have  free  course." 

The  law,  represented  by  the  magistrate,  was  a  prey 
at  that  moment  to  the  most  cruel  perplexity.  M.  Gal- 
pin  was  utterly  overcome  by  consternation.  He  sat 
at  the  little  table,  on  which  he  had  been  writing,  his 
head  resting  on  his  hands,  thinking,  apparently,  how 
he  could  find  a  way  out  of  this  labyrinth. 

All  of  a  sudden  he  rose,  and  forgetting,  for  a  mo- 
ment, his  customary  rigidity,  he  let  his  mask  of  icy 
impassiveness  drop  off  his  face,  and  said, — 

"  Well  ?  "  as  if,  in  his  despair,  he  had  hoped  for 
some  help  or  advice  in  his  troubles, — "  well  ?  " 

No  answer  came. 

All  the  others  were  as  much  troubled  as  he  was. 
They  all  tried  to  shake  off  the  overwhelming  impres- 


52       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

sion  made  by  this  accumulation  of  evidence;  but  in 
vain.  At  last,  after  a  moment's  silence,  the  magis- 
trate said  with  strange  bitterness, — 

"  You  see,  gentlemen,  I  was  right  in  examining 
Cocoleu.  Oh !  don't  attempt  to  deny  it :  you  share 
my  doubts  and  my  suspicions,  I  see  it.  Is  there  one 
among  you  who  would  dare  assert  that  the  terrible 
excitement  of  this  poor  man  has  not  restored  to  him 
for  a  time  the  use  of  his  reason?  When  he  told  you 
that  he  had  witnessed  the  crime,  and  when  he  gave  the 
name  of  the  criminal,  you  looked  incredulous.  But 
then  other  witnesses  came ;  and  their  united  evidence, 
corresponding  without  a  missing  link,  constitutes  a 
terrible  presumption." 

He  became  animated  again.  Professional  habits, 
stronger  than  every  thing  else,  obtained  once  more 
the  mastery. 

"  M.  de  Boiscoran  was  at  Valpinson  to-night :  that 
is  clearly  established.  Well,  how  did  he  get  here? 
By  concealing  himself.  Between  his  own  house  and 
Valpinson  there  are  two  public  roads, — one  by  Brechy, 
and  another  around  the  swamps.  Does  M.  de  Bois- 
coran take  either  of  the  two?  No.  He  cuts  straight 
across  the  marshes,  at  the  risk  of  sinking  in,  or  of 
getting  wet  from  head  to  foot.  On  his  return  he 
chooses,  in  spite  of  the  darkness,  the  forest  of  Roche- 
pommier,  unmindful  of  the  danger  he  runs  to  lose  his 
way,  and  to  wander  about  in  it  till  daybreak.  What 
was  he  doing  this  for?  Evidently,  in  order  not  to 
be  seen.  And,  in  fact,  whom  does  he  meet? — a  loose 
fellow,  Ribot,  who  is  himself  in  hiding  on  account  of 
some  love-intrigue ;  a  wood-stealer,  Gaudry,  whose 
only  anxiety  is  to  avoid  the  gendarmes ;  an  old  woman, 
finally,  Mrs.  Courtois,  who  has  been  belated  by  an 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       53 

accident.  All  his  precautions  were  well  chosen;  but 
Providence  was  watching." 

"  O  Providence ! "  growled  Dr.  Seignebos, — 
"  Providence !  " 

But  M.  Galpin  did  not  even  hear  the  interruption. 
Speaking  faster  and  faster,  he  went  on, — 

"  Would  it  at  least  be  possible  to  plead  in  behalf 
of  M.  de  Boiscoran  a  difference  in  time?  No.  At 
what  time  was  he  seen  to  come  to  this  place?  At 
nightfall.  '  It  was  half-past  eight,'  says  Ribot,  '  when 
M.  de  Boiscoran  crossed  the  canal  at  the  Seille 
swamps.'  He  might,  therefore,  have  easily  reached 
Valpinson  at  half-past  nine.  At  that  hour  the  crime 
had  not  yet  been  committed.  When  was  he  seen  re- 
turning home?  Gaudry  and  the  woman  Courtois 
have  told  you  the  hour, — after  eleven  o'clock.  At  that 
time  Count  Claudieuse  had  been  shot,  and  Valpinson 
was  on  fire.  Do  we  know  any  thing  of  M.  de  Bois- 
coran's  temper  at  that  time?  Yes,  we  do.  When  he 
came  this  way  he  was  quite  cool.  He  is  very  much 
surprised  at  meeting  Ribot;  but  he  explains  to  him 
very  fully  how  he  happens  to  be  at  that  place,  and 
also  why  he  has  a  gun. 

"  He  says  he  is  on  his  way  to  meet  somebody  at 
Brechy,  and  he  thought  he  would  shoot  some  birds. 
Is  that  admissible?  Is  it  even  likely?  However,  let 
us  look  at  him  on  his  way  back.  Gaudry  says  he  was 
walking  very  fast:  he  seemed  to  be  furious,  and  was 
pulling  handfuls  of  leaves  from  the  branches.  What 
does  Mrs.  Courtois  say?  Nothing.  When  she  calls 
him,  he  does  not  venture  to  run ;  that  would  have  been 
a  confession,  but  he  is  in  a  great  hurry  to  help  her. 
And  then?  His  way  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  is  the 
same  as  the  woman's:  does  he  keep  her  company? 


54       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS   LIFE 

No.  He  leaves  her  hastily.  He  goes  ahead,  and  hur- 
ries home;  for  he  thinks  Count  Claudieuse  is  dead; 
he  knows  Valpinson  is  in  flames ;  and  he  fears  he  will 
hear  the  bells  ring,  and  see  the  fire  raging." 

It  is  not  often  that  magistrates  allow  themselves 
such  familiarity;  for  judges,  and  even  lawyers,  gen- 
erally fancy  they  are  too  high  above  common  mortals, 
on  such  occasions,  to  explain  their  views,  to  state  their 
impressions,  and  to  ask,  as  it  were,  for  advice.  Still, 
when  the  inquiry  is  only  begun,  there  are,  properly 
speaking,  no  fixed  rules  prescribed.  As  soon  as  a 
crime  has  been  reported  to  a  French  magistrate,  he  is 
at  liberty  to  do  any  thing  he  chooses  in  order  to  dis- 
cover the  guilty  one.  Absolutely  master  of  the  case, 
responsible  only  to  his  conscience,  and  endowed  with 
extraordinary  powers,  he  proceeds  as  he  thinks  best. 
But,  in  this  affair  at  Valpinson,  M.  Galpin  had  been 
carried  away  by  the  rapidity  of  the  events  themselves. 
Since  the  first  question  addressed  to  Cocoleu,  up  to  the 
present  moment,  he  had  not  had  time  to  consider. 
And  his  proceedings  had  been  public ;  thus  he  felt  nat- 
urally tempted  to  explain  them. 

"  And  you  call  this  a  legal  inquiry  ?  "  asked  Dr. 
Seignebos. 

He  had  taken  off  his  spectacles,  and  was  wiping 
them  furiously. 

"  An  inquiry  founded  upon  what  ?  "  he  went  on  with 
such  vehemence  that  no  one  dared  interrupt  him, — 
"  founded  upon  the  evidence  of  an  unfortunate  crea- 
ture, whom  I,  a  physician,  testify  to  be  not  responsible 
for  what  he  says.  Reason  does  not  go  out  and  be- 
come lighted  again,  like  the  gas  in  a  street-lamp.  A 
man  is  an  idiot,  or  he  is  not  an  idiot.  He  has  always 
ben  one ;  and  he  always  will  be  one.  But  you  say  the 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       55 

other  statements  are  conclusive.  Say,  rather,  that  you 
think  they  are.  Why?  Because  you  are  prejudiced 
by  Cocoleu's  accusation.  But  for  it,  you  would  never 
have  troubled  yourselves  about  what  M.  de  Boiscoran 
did,  or  did  not.  He  walked  about  the  whole  evening. 
He  has  a  right  to  do  so.  He  crossed  the  marsh. 
What  hindered  him?  He  went  through  the  woods. 
Why  should  he  not?  He  is  met  with  by  people.  Is 
not  that  quite  natural  ?  But  no  :  an  idiot  accuses  him, 
and  forthwith  all  he  does  looks  suspicious.  He  talks. 
It  is  the  insolence  of  a  hardened  criminal.  He  is  si- 
lent. It  is  the  remorse  of  a  guilty  man  trembling  with 
fear.  Instead  of  naming  M.  de  Boiscoran,  Cocoleu 
might  just  as  well  have  named  me,  Dr.  Seignebos. 
At  once,  all  my  doings  would  have  appeared  suspicious; 
and  I  am  quite  sure  a  thousand  evidences  of  my 
guilt  would  have  been  discovered.  It  would  have  been 
an  easy  matter.  Are  not  my  opinions  more  radical 
even  than  those  of  M.  de  Boiscoran  ?  For  there  is  the 
key  to  the  whole  matter.  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  a  Re- 
publican ;  M.  de  Boiscoran  acknowledges  no  sover- 
eignty but  that  of  the  people  " — 

"  Doctor,"  broke  in  the  commonwealth  attorney, — 
"  doctor,  you  are  not  thinking  of  what  you  say." 

"  I  do  think  of  it,  I  assure  you  " — 

But  he  was  once  more  interrupted,  and  this  time  by 
Count  Claudieuse,  who  said, — 

"  For  my  part,  I  admit  all  the  arguments  brought 
up  by  the  magistrate.  But,  above  all  probabilities,  I 
put  a  fact, — the  character  of  the  accused.  M.  de  Bois- 
coran is  a  man  of  honor  and  an  excellent  man.  He  is 
incapable  of  committing  a  mean  and  odious  crime." 

The  others  assented.     M.  Seneschal  added, — 

"  And  I,  I  will  tell  you  another  thing.     What  would 


S6       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

have  been  the  purpose  in  such  a  crime?  Ah!  if  M.  de 
Boiscoran  had  nothing  to  lose!  But  do  you  know 
among  all  your  friends  a  happier  man  than  he  is? — 
young,  handsome,  in  excellent  health,  immensely 
wealthy,  esteemed  and  popular  with  everybody.  Fi- 
nally, there  is  another  fact,  which  is  still  a  family  secret, 
but  which  I  may  tell  you,  and  which  will  remove  at 
once  all  suspicions, — M.  de  Boiscoran  is  desperately 
in  love  with  Miss  Dionysia  de  Chandore.  She  returns 
his  love;  and  day  before  yesterday  the  wedding-day 
was  fixed  on  the  2Oth  of  next  month." 

In  the  meantime  the  hours  had  sped  on.  It  was 
half-past  three  by  the  clock  of  the  church  in  Brechy. 
Day  was  breaking;  and  the  light  of  the  lamps  was 
turning  pale.  The  morning  mists  began  to  disappear ; 
and  the  sunlight  fell  upon  the  window-panes.  But 
no  one  noticed  this :  all  these  men  gathered  around 
the  bed  of  the  wounded  man  were  too  deeply  excited. 
M.  Galpin  had  listened  to  the  objections  made  by  the 
others,  without  a  word  or  a  gesture.  He  had  so  far 
recovered  his  self-control,  that  it  would  have  been 
difficult  to  see  what  impressions  they  made  upon  his 
mind.  At  last,  shaking  his  head  gravely,  he  said, — 

"  More  than  you,  gentlemen,  I  feel  a  desire  to  be- 
lieve M.  de  Boiscoran  innocent.  M.  Daubigeon,  who 
knows  what  I  mean,  will  tell  you  so.  In  my  heart  I 
pleaded  his  cause  long  before  you.  But  I  am  the 
representative  of  the  law ;  and  my  duty  is  above  my 
affections.  Does  it  depend  on  me  to  set  aside  Coco- 
leu's  accusation,  however  stupid,  however  absurd,  it 
may  be?  Can  I  undo  the  three  statements  made  by 
the  witnesses,  and  confirming  so  strongly  the  sus- 
picions aroused  by  the  first  charge  ?  " 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       57 

Count  Claudieuse  was  distressed  beyond  expression. 
At  last  he  said, — 

"  The  worst  thing  about  it  is,  that  M.  de  Boiscoran 
thinks  I  am  his  enemy.  I  should  not  wonder  if  he 
went  and  imagined  that  these  charges  and  vile  sus- 
picions have  been  suggested  by  my  wife  or  by  myself. 
If  I  could  only  get  up!  At  least,  let  M.  de  Boiscoran 
know  distinctly  that  I  am  ready  to  answer  for  him, 
as  I  would  answer  for  myself.  Cocoleu,  the  wretched 
idiot!  Ah,  Genevieve,  my  darling  wife!  why  did  you 
induce  him  to  talk  ?  If  you  had  not  insisted,  he  would 
have  kept  silent  forever." 

The  countess  succumbed  at  last  to  the  anxieties  of 
this  terrible  night.  At  first  she  had  been  supported 
by  that  exaltation  which  is  apt  to  accompany  a  great 
crisis;  but  latterly  she  had  felt  exhausted.  She  had 
sunk  upon  a  stool,  near  the  bed  on  which  her  two 
daughters  were  lying;  and,  her  head  hid  in  the  pillow, 
she  seemed  to  sleep.  But  she  was  not  asleep.  When 
her  husband  reproached  her  thus,  she  rose,  pale,  with 
swollen  eyes  and  distorted  features,  and  said  in  a 
piercing  voice, — 

"  What  ?  They  have  tried  to  kill  my  Trivulce ;  our 
children  have  been  near  unto  death  in  the  flames ;  and 
I  should  have  allowed  any  means  to  be  unused  by 
which  the  guilty  one  may  be  found  out?  No!  I 
have  only  done  what  it  was  my  duty  to  do.  Whatever 
may  come  of  it,  I  regret  nothing." 

"  But,  Genevieve,  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  not  guilty : 
he  cannot  possibly  be  guilty.  How  could  a  man  who 
has  the  happiness  of  being  loved  by  Dionysia  de 
Chandore,  and  who  counts  the  days  to  his  wedding, 
— how  could  he  devise  such  a  hideous  crime  ?  " 


58      WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Let  him  prove  his  innocence,"  replied  the  countess 
mercilessly. 

The  doctor  smacked  his  lips  in  the  most  imperti- 
nent manner. 

"  There  is  a  woman's  logic  for  you,"  he  murmured. 

"  Certainly,"  said  M.  Seneschal,  "  M.  de  Boiscoran's 
innocence  will  be  promptly  established.  Nevertheless, 
the  suspicion  will  remain.  And  our  people  are  so 
constituted,  that  this  suspicion  will  overshadow  his 
whole  life.  Twenty  years  hence,  they  will  meet  him, 
and  they  will  say,  '  Oh,  yes !  the  man  who  set  Valpin- 
son  on  fire,! ' ' 

It  was  not  M.  Galpin  this  time  who  replied,  but  the 
commonwealth  attorney.  He  said  sadly, — 

"  I  cannot  share  your  views ;  but  that  does  not  mat- 
ter. After  what  has  passed,  our  friend  M.  Galpin 
cannot  retrace  his  steps :  his  duty  makes  that  impos- 
sible, and,  even  more  so,  what  is  due  to  the  accused. 
What  would  all  these  people  say,  who  have  heard 
Cocoleu's  deposition,  and  the  evidence  given  by  the 
witnesses,  if  the  inquiry  were  stopped?  They  would 
certainly  say  M.  de  Boiscoran  was  guilty,  but  that  he 
was  not  held  responsible  because  he  was  rich  and 
noble.  Upon  my  honor  I  believe  him  to  be  innocent. 
But  precisely  because  this  is  my  conviction,  I  main- 
tain that  his  innocence  must  be  clearly  established. 
No  doubt  he  has  the  means  of  doing  so.  When  he 
met  Ribot,  he  told  him  he  was  on  his  way  to  see 
somebody  at  Brechy." 

"But  suppose  he  never  went  there?"  objected  M. 
Seneschal.  "Suppose  he  did  not  see  anybody  there? 
Suppose  it  was  only  a  pretext  to  satisfy  Ribot's  im- 
pertinent curiosity  ?  " 

"  Well,  then,  he  would  only  have  to  tell  the  truth 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       59 

in  court.  And  look !  here's  an  important  proof  which 
almost  by  itself  relieves  M.  de  Boiscoran.  Would  he 
not  have  loaded  his  gun  with  a  ball,  if  he  should  ever 
have  really  thought  of  murdering  the  count?  But  it 
was  loaded  with  nothing  but  small-shot." 

"  And  he  would  never  have  missed  me  at  ten  yards' 
distance,"  said  the  count. 

Suddenly  somebody  was  heard  knocking  furiously 
at  the  door. 

"  Come  in !  "  cried  M.  Seneschal. 

The  door  opened,  and  three  peasants  appeared,  look- 
ing bewildered,  but  evidently  well  pleased. 

"  We  have  just,"  said  one  of  them,  "  found  some- 
thing curious." 

"What?"  asked  M.  Galpin. 

"  It  looks  very  much  like  a  case ;  but  Pitard  says 
it  is  the  paper  of  a  cartridge." 

Count  Claudieuse  raised  himself  on  his  pillows,  and 
said  eagerly, — 

"  Let  me  see !  I  have  during  these  last  days  fired 
several  times  quite  near  to  the  house  to  frighten  the 
birds  away  that  eat  my  fruit.  I  want  to  see  if  the 
paper  is  mine." 

The  peasant  gave  it  to  him. 

It  was  a  very  thin  lead  form,  such  as  contain  the 
cartridges  used  in  American  breech-loading  guns. 
What  was  singular  was  that  it  was  blackened  by  burnt 
powder;  but  it  had  not  been  torn,  nor  had  it  blazed 
up  in  the  discharge.  It  was  so  perfectly  uninjured, 
that  one  could  read  the  embossed  letters  of  the  name 
of  the  manufacturer,  Clebb. 

"  That  cartridge  never  belonged  to  me,"  said  the 
count. 

But  as  he  uttered  these  words  he  turned  deadly  pale, 


60       WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

so  pale,  that  his  wife  came  close  to  him,  and  looked 
at  him  with  a  glance  full  of  terrible  anguish. 

"  Well  ? " 

He  made  no  reply. 

But  at  that  moment  such  silence  was  so  eloquent,, 
that  the  countess  felt  sickened,  and  whispered  to 
him, — 

"  Then  Cocoleu  was  right,  after  all !  " 

Not  one  feature  of  this  dramatic  scene  had  escaped 
M.  Galpin's  eye.  He  had  seen  on  every  face  signs  of 
a  kind  of  terror;  still  he  made  no  remark.  He  took 
the  metal  case  from  the  count's  hands,  knowing  that 
it  might  become  an  important  piece  of  evidence;  and 
for  nearly  a  minute  he  turned  it  round  and  round, 
looking  at  it  from  all  sides,  and  examining  it  in  the 
light  with  the  utmost  attention. 

Then  turning  to  the  peasants,  who  were  standing 
respectfully  and  uncovered  close  by  the  door,  he  asked 
them, — 

"  Where  did  you  find  this  cartridge,  my  friends  ?  " 

"  Close  by  the  old  tower,  where  they  keep  the  tools, 
and  where  the  ivy  is  growing  all  over  the  old  castle." 

M.  Seneschal  had  in  the  meantime  succeeded  in  re- 
covering his  self-control,  and  said  now, — 

"  Surely  the  murderer  cannot  have  fired  from  there. 
You  cannot  even  see  the  door  of  the  house  from  the 
old  tower." 

"  That  may  be,"  replied  the  magistrate ;  "  but  the 
cartridge-case  does  not  necessarily  fall  to  the  ground 
at  the  place  where  the  gun  is  discharged.  It  falls  as 
soon  as  the  gun  is  cocked  to  reload." 

This  was  so  true,  that  even  Dr.  Seignebos  had  noth- 
ing to  say. 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE       61 

"  Now,  my  friends,"  said  M.  Galpin,  "  which  of  you 
has  found  this  cartridge-case  ?  " 

"  We  were  all  together  when  we  saw  it,  and  picked 
it  up." 

"  Well,  then,  all  three  of  you  must  give  me  your 
names  and  your  domicile,  so  that  I  can  send  for  you 
when  you  are  wanted." 

This  was  done;  and,  when  all  formalities  were  at- 
tended to,  they  went  off  with  numberless  bows  and 
doffings  of  hats.  Just  at  that  moment  the  furious 
gallop  of  a  horse  was  heard  approaching  the  house; 
the  next  moment  the  man  who  had  been  sent  to  Sauve- 
terre  for  medicines  came  in.  He  was  furious. 

"  That  rascal  of  a  druggist !  "  he  said.  "  I  thought 
he  would  never  open  his  shop !  " 

Dr.  Seignebos  had  eagerly  seized  the  things  that 
were  sent  him,  then,  bowing  with  mock  respect  to  the 
magistrate,  he  said, — • 

"  I  know  very  well,  sir,  how  pressing  the  necessity 
is  to  have  the  head  of  the  culprit  cut  off ;  but  I  think 
it  is  almost  as  pressing  to  save  the  life  of  the  mur- 
dered man.  I  have  probably  delayed  the  binding  up  of 
the  count's  wounds  longer  than  I  ought  to  have  done ; 
and  I  beg  you  will  now  leave  me  alone,  so  as  to  enable 
me  to  do  my  duty  to  him." 


VI. 


THERE  was  nothing  more  to  be  done  for  the  magis- 
trate, the  commonwealth  attorney,  or  the  mayor.  The 
doctor  might  assuredly  have  used  more  polite  lan- 
guage; but  people  were  accustomed  to  his  brutal 


62       WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

ways ;  for  it  is  surprising  with  what  readiness  men  are 
tolerated  in  France,  under  the  pretext  that  they  are 
as  they  are,  and  that  they  must  be  taken  as  they  are. 
The  three  gentlemen,  therefore,  left  the  room,  after 
having  bid  farewell  to  the  countess,  and  after  having 
promised  to  send  the  count  news  of  all  that  might  be 
discovered. 

The  fire  was  going  out  for  want  of  fuel.  A  few 
hours  had  sufficed  to  destroy  all  that  the  hard  work 
and  incessant  cares  of  many  years  had  accomplished. 
This  charming  and  much  envied  estate  presented  now 
nothing  but  a  few  half  calcined  walls,  heaps  of  black 
and  gray  ashes,  and  still  glowing  timbers,  from  which 
columns  of  smoke  were  slowly  rising  upward. 
Thanks  to  Capt.  Parenteau,  all  that  they  had  been 
able  to  save  had  been  carried  to  a  distance,  and  safely 
stored  away  under  the  shelter  of  the  ruins  of  the  old 
castle.  There,  furniture  and  other  articles  were  piled 
up  pell-mell.  There,  carts  and  agricultural  machines 
were  standing  about,  empty  casks,  and  sacks  of  oats 
and  rye.  There,  also,  the  cattle  were  gathered,  that 
had  been  drawn  from  their  stalls  with  infinite  labor, 
and  at  great  risk  of  life, — horses,  oxen,  some  sheep, 
and  a  dozen  cows,  who  lowed  piteously.  Few  of  the 
people  had  left  as  yet.  With  greater  zeal  than  ever 
the  firemen,  aided  by  the  peasants,  deluged  the  re- 
mains of  the  dwelling-house  with  water.  They  had 
nothing  to  fear  from  the  fire ;  but  they  desired  to 
keep  the  bodies  of  their  unfortunate  companions  from 
being  entirely  consumed. 

"  What  a  terrible  scourge  fire  is !  "  said  M.  Sene- 
schal. 

Neither  M.  Galpin  nor  the  mayor  made  any  answer. 
They  also  felt  their  hearts  oppressed  by  the  sad  sight 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       63 

before  them,  in  spite  of  all  the  intense  excitement  be- 
fore ;  for  a  fire  is  nothing  as  long  as  the  feverish  ex- 
citement, and  the  hope  of  saving  something,  continue 
to  keep  us  up,  and  as  long  as  the  red  flames  illumine 
the  horizon ;  but  the  next  day,  when  all  is  over,  then 
we  realize  the  extent  of  the  misfortune. 

The  firemen  recognized  the  mayor,  and  greeted  him 
with  cheers.  He  went  rapidly  towards  them ;  and,  for 
the  first  time  since  the  alarm  had  been  raised,  the 
magistrate  and  the  attorney  were  alone.  They  were 
standing  close  by  each  other,  and  for  a  moment  kept 
silent,  while  each  one  tried  to  read  in  the  other's  eyes 
the  secret  of  his  thoughts.  At  last  M.  Daubigeon 
asked, — 

"Well?" 

M.  Galpin  trembled. 

"  This  is  a  fearful  calamity,"  he  said. 

"  What  is  your  opinion  ?  " 

"  Ah !  do  I  know  it  myself  ?  I  have  lost  my  head : 
the  whole  thing  looks  to  me  like  a  nightmare." 

"  You  cannot  really  believe  that  M.  de  Boiscoran  is 
guilty?" 

"  I  believe  nothing.  My  reason  tells  me  he  is  inno- 
cent. I  feel  he  must  be  innocent ;  and  yet  I  see  terri- 
ble evidence  rising  against  him." 

The  attorney  was  overwhelmed. 

"  Alas !  "  he  said,  "  why  did  you,  contrary  to  every- 
body's opinion,  insist  upon  examining  Cocoleu,  a  poor 
idiotic  wretch  ?  " 

But  the  magistrate  remonstrated, — 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  reproach  me,  sir,  for  having 
followed  the  impulses  of  my  conscience?" 

"  I  reproach  you  with  nothing." 

"  A  horrible  crime  has  been  committed ;  and  my 


64       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

duty  compelled  me  to  do  all  that  lies  in  the  power  of 
man  to  discover  the  culprit." 

"  Yes ;  and  the  man  who  is  accused  of  the  crime  is 
your  friend,  and  only  yesterday  you  spoke  of  his 
I  friendship  as  your  best  chance  of  success  in  life." 

"Sir?" 

"  Are  you  surprised  to  find  me  so  well  informed  ? 
Ah,  you  do  not  know  that  nothing  escapes  the  idle 
curiosity  of  a  village.  I  know  that  your  dearest  hope 
was  to  become  a  member  of  M.  de  Boiscoran's  family, 
and  that  you  counted  upon  him  to  back  you  in  your 
efforts  to  obtain  the  hand  of  one  of  his  cousins." 

"  I  do  not  deny  that." 

"  Unfortunately,  you  have  been  tempted  by  the 
prestige  you  might  gain  in  a  great  and  famous  trial. 
You  have  laid  aside  all  prudence;  and  your  projects 
are  forgotten.  Whether  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  innocent 
or  guilty,  his  family  will  never  forgive  you  your  inter- 
ference. If  he  is  guilty,  they  will  blame  you  for  hav- 
ing handed  him  over  to  justice :  if  he  is  innocent,  they 
will  blame  you  even  more  for  having  suspected  him." 

M.  Galpin  hung  his  head  as  if  to  conceal  his  trou- 
ble. Then  he  asked, — 

"  And  what  would  you  do  in  my  place  ?  " 

"  I  would  withdraw  from  the  case,  although  it  is 
rather  late." 

"  If  I  did  so,  I  should  risk  my  career." 

"  Even  that  would  be  better  for  you  than  to  engage 
in  an  affair  in  which  you  cannot  feel  the  calmness 
nor  the  impartiality  which  are  the  first  and  indispen- 
sable virtues  of  an  upright  magistrate." 

The  latter  was  becoming  impatient.  He  ex- 
claimed,— 

"  Sir,  do  you  think  I  am  a  man  to  be  turned  aside 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       65 

from  my  duty  by  considerations  of  friendship  or  per- 
sonal interest  ?  " 

"  I  said  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"  Did  you  not  see  just  now  how  I  carried  on  the 
inquiry?  Did  you  see  me  start  when  Cocoleu  first 
mentioned  M.  de  Boiscoran's  name?  If  he  had  de- 
nounced any  one  else,  I  should  probably  have  let  the 
matter  rest  there.  But  precisely  because  M.  de  Bois- 
coran  is  a  friend  of  mine,  and  because  I  have  great  ex- 
pectations from  him,  I  have  insisted  and  persisted,  and 
I  do  so  still." 

The  commonwealth  attorney  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders. 

"  That  is  it  exactly,"  he  said.  "  Because  M.  de 
Boiscoran  is  a  friend  of  yours,  you  are  afraid  of  being 
accused  of  weakness;  and  you  are  going  to  be  hard, 
pitiless,  unjust  even,  against  him.  Because  you  had 
great  expectations  frorn  him,  you  will  insist  upon  find- 
ing him  guilty.  And  you  call  yourself  impartial  ?  " 

M.  Galpin  assumed  all  his  usual  rigidity,  an'd  said 
solemnly, — 

"  I  am  sure  of  myself !  " 

"  Have  a  care !  " 

"  My  mind  is  made  up,  sir." 

It  was  time  for  M.  Seneschal  to  join  them  again: 
he  returned,  accompanied  by  Capt.  Parenteau. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  he  asked,  "  what  have  you  re- 
solved?" 

"  We  are  going  to  Boiscoran,"  replied  the  magis- 
trate. 

"What!     Immediately?" 

"  Yes :  I  wish  to  find  M.  de  Boiscoran  in  bed.  I 
am  so  anxious  about  it,  that  I  shall  do  without  my 
clerk." 


66       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

Capt.  Parenteau  bowed,  and  said, — 

"  Your  clerk  is  here,  sir :  he  was  but  just  inquiring- 
for  you."  Thereupon  he  called  out  as  loud  as  he 
could, — 

"  Mechinet,  Mechinet !  " 

A  small,  gray-headed  man,  jovial  and  cheerful,  came 
running  up,  and  at  once  proceeded  to  tell  at  full  length 
how  a  neighbor  had  told  him  what  had  happened,  and 
how  the  magistrate  had  left  town,  whereupon  he,  also, 
had  started  on  foot,  and  come  after  him  as  fast  as  he 
could. 

"  Now  will  you  go  to  Boiscoran  ?  "  asked  the  mayor. 

"  I  do  not  know  yet.  Mechinet  will  have  to  look 
for  some  conveyance." 

Quick  like  lightning,  the  cjerk  was  starting  off, 
when  M.  Seneschal  held  him  back,  saying, — 

"  Don't  go.  I  place  my  horse  and  my  carriage  at 
your  disposal.  Any  one  of  these  peasants  can  drive 
you.  Capt.  Parenteau  and  I  will  get  into  some  farm- 
er's wagon,  and  thus  get  back  to  Sauveterre;  for  we 
ought  to  be  back  as  soon  as  possible.  I  have  just 
heard  alarming  news.  There  may  be  some  disorder. 
The  peasant-women  who  attend  the  market  have 
brought  in  most  exciting  reports,  and  exaggerated  the 
calamities  of  last  night.  They  have  started  reports 
that  ten  or  twelve  men  have  been  killed,  and  that  the 
incendiary,  M.  de  Boiscoran,  has  been  arrested.  The 
crowd  has  gone  to  poor  Guillebault's  widow ;  and  there 
have  been  demonstrations  before  the  houses  of  several 
of  the  principal  inhabitants  of  Sauveterre." 

In  ordinary  times,  M.  Seneschal  would  not  have  in- 
trusted his  famous  horse,  Caraby,  for  any  thing  in  the 
world,  to  the  hands  of  a  stranger.  He  considered  it 
the  best  horse  in  the  province.  But  he  was  evidently 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       67 

terribly  upset,  and  betrayed  it  in  his  manner,  and  by 
the  very  efforts  he  made  to  regain  his  official  dignity 
and  self-possession. 

He  made  a  sign,  and  his  carriage  was  brought  up, 
all  ready.  But,  when  he  asked  for  somebody  to  drive, 
no  one  came  forward.  All  these  good  people  who  had 
spent  the  night  abroad  were  in  great  haste  to  return 
home,  where  their  cattle  required  their  presence. 
When  young  Ribot  saw  the  others  hesitate,  he  said, — 

"  Well,  I'll  drive  the  justice." 

And,  taking  hold  of  the  whip  and  the  reins,  he  took 
his  seat  on  the  front-bench,  while  the  magistrate,  the 
commonwealth  attorney,  and  the  clerk  filled  the  ve- 
hicle. 

"  Above  all,  take  care  of  Caraby,"  begged  M.  Sene- 
schal, who  at  the  last  moment  felt  almost  overcome 
with  anxiety  for  his  favorite. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  sir,"  replied  the  young  man,  as 
he  started  the  horse.  "  If  I  strike  too  hard,  M.  Mechi- 
net  will  stop  me." 

This  Mechinet,  the  magistrate's  clerk,  was  almost 
a  power  in  Sauveterre ;  and  the  greatest  personages 
there  paid  their  court  to  him.  His  official  duties  were 
of  very  humble  nature,  and  ill  paid ;  but  he  knew  how 
to  eke  out  his  income  by  other  occupations,  of  which 
the  court  took  no  notice ;  and  these  added  largely  both 
to  his  importance  in  the  community  and  to  his  modest 
income. 

As  he  was  a  skilful  lithographer,  he  printed  all  the 
visiting-cards  which  the  people  of  Sauveterre  ordered 
at  the  principal  printing-office  of  Sauveterre,  where 
"  The  Independent "  was  published.  An  able  ac- 
countant, he  kept  books  and  made  up  the  amounts  for 
some  of  the  principal  merchants  in  town.  Some  of 


68       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

the  country  people  who  were  fond  of  litigation  came 
to  him  for  legal  advice;  and  he  drew  up  all  kinds  of 
law  papers.  For  many  years  now,  he  had  been  di- 
rector of  the  firemen's  band,  and  manager  of  the  Or- 
pheon.  He  was  a  correspondent  of  certain  Paris  so- 
cieties, and  thus  obtained  free  admission  to  the  theatre 
not  only,  but  also  to  the  sacred  precincts  behind  the 
scenes.  Finally  he  was  always  ready  to  give  writing- 
lessons,  French  lessons  to  little  girls,  or  music-lessons, 
on  the  flute  and  the  horn,  to  amateurs. 

These  varied  talents  had  drawn  upon  him  the  hos- 
tility of  all  the  other  teachers  and  public  servants  of 
the  community,  especially  that  of  the  mayor's  clerk, 
and  the  clerks  of  the  bank  and  great  institutions  of 
Sauveterre.  But  all  these  enemies  he  had  gradually 
conquered  by  the  unmistakable  superiority  of  his 
ability;  so  that  they  fell  in  with  the  universal  habit, 
and,  when  any  thing  special  happened,  said  to  each 
other, — 

"  Let  us  go  and  consult  Mechinet." 

He  himself  concealed,  under  an  appearance  of  im- 
perturbable good  nature,  the  ambition  by  which  he 
was  devoured:  he  wanted  to  become  rich,  and  to  rise 
in  the  world.  In  fact,  Mechinet  was  a  diplomat, 
working  in  secret,  but  as  cunning  as  Talleyrand.  He 
had  succeeded  already  in  making  himself  the  one  great 
personage  of  Sauveterre.  The  town  was  full  of  him ; 
nothing  was  done  without  him ;  and  yet  he  had  not 
an  enemy  in  the  place. 

The  fact  is,  people  were  afraid  of  him,  and  dreaded 
his  terrible  tongue.  Not  that  he  had  ever  injured 
anybody,  he  was  too  wise  for  that ;  but  they  knew  the 
harm  he  might  do,  if  he  chose,  as  he  was  master  of 
every  important  secret  in  Sauveterre,  and  the  best  in- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       69 

formed  man  in  town  as  regarded  all  their  little 
intrigues,  their  private  foibles,  and  their  dark  ante- 
cedents. 

This  gave  him  quite  an  exceptional  position.  As 
he  was  unmarried,  he  lived  with  his  sisters,  the  Misses 
Mechinet,  who  were  the  best  dressmakers  in  town, 
and,  moreover,  devout  members  of  all  kinds  of  relig- 
ious societies.  Through  them  he  heard  all  that  was 
going  on  in  society,  and  was  able  to  compare  the  cur- 
rent gossip  with  what  he  heard  in  court,  or  at  the 
newspaper  office.  Thus  he  could  say  pleasantly, — 

"  How  could  any  thing  escape  me,  when  I  have  the 
church  and  the  press,  the  court  and  the  theatre,  to  keep 
me  informed  ?  " 

Such  a  man  would  have  considered  himself  dis- 
graced if  he  had  not  known  every  detail  of  M.  de  Bois- 
coran's  private  affairs.  He  did  not  hesitate,  there- 
fore, while  the  carriage  was  rolling  along  on  an 
excellent  road,  in  the  fresh  spring  morning,  to  explain 
_to  his  companions  the  "  case,"  as  he  called  it,  of  the 
accused  nobleman. 

M.  de  Boiscoran,  called  Jacques  by  his  friends,  was 
rarely  on  his  estate,  and  then  only  staid  a  month  or  so 
there.  He  was  living  in  Paris,  where  his  family 
owned  a  comfortable  house  in  University  Street.  His 
parents  were  still  alive. 

His  father,  the  Marquis  de  Boiscoran,  the  owner  of 
a  large  landed  estate,  a  deputy  under  Louis  Philippe, 
a  representative  in  1848,  had  withdrawn  from  public 
life  when  the  Second  Empire  was  established,  and 
spent,  since  that  time,  all  his  money,  and  all  his  ener- 
gies, in  collecting  rare  old  books,  and  especially  costly 
porcelain,  on  which  he  had  written  a  monograph. 

His  mother,  a  Chalusse  by  birth,  had  enjoyed  the 


70       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

reputation  of  being  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  most 
gifted  ladies  at  the  court  of  the  Citizen  King.  At  a 
certain  period  in  her  life,  unfortunately,  slander  had 
attacked  her ;  and  about  1845  or  1846,  it  was  reported 
that  she  had  had  a  remarkable  affair  with  a  young 
lawyer  of  distinction,  who  had  since  become  one  of 
the  austerest  and  most  renowned  judges.  As  she 
grew  old,  the  marchioness  devoted  herself  more  and 
more  to  politics,  as  other  women  become  pious. 
While  her  husband  boasted  that  he  had  not  read  a  news- 
paper for  ten  years,  she  had  made  her  salon  a  kind 
of  parliamentary  centre,  which  had  its  influence  on 
political  affairs. 

Although  Jacques  de  Boiscoran's  parents  were  still 
alive,  he  possessed  a  considerable  fortune  of  his  own, — 
five  or  six  thousand  dollars  a  year.  This  fortune,  which 
consisted  of  the  Chateau  of  Boiscoran,  the  farms, 
meadows,  and  forests  belonging  to  it,  had  been  left  to 
him  by  one  of  his  uncles,  the  oldest  brother  of  his 
father,  who  had  died  a  widower,  and  childless,  in 
1868.  M.  de  Boiscoran  was  at  this  moment  about 
twenty-six  or  twenty-seven  years  old,  dark  complex- 
ion, tall,  strong,  well  made,  not  exactly  a  handsome 
man,  but  having,  what  was  worth  more,  one  of  those 
frank,  intelligent  faces  which  prepossess  one  at  first 
sight. 

His  character  was  less  well  known  at  Sauveterre 
than  his  person.  Those  who  had  had  any  business 
with  him  described  him  as  an  honorable,  upright  man : 
his  companions  spoke  of  him  as  cheerful  and  gay, 
fond  of  pleasure,  and  always  in  good  humor.  At  the 
time  of  the  Prussian  invasion,  he  had  been  made  a 
captain  of  one  of  the  volunteer  companies  of  the  dis- 
trict. He  had  led  his  men  bravely  under  fire,  and  con- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       71" 

ducted  himself  so  well  on  the  battlefield,  that  Gen. 
Chanzy  had  rewarded  him,  when  wounded,  with  the 
cross  of  the  legion  of  honor. 

"  And  such  a  man  should  have  committed  such  a 
crime  at  Valpinson,"  said  M.  Daubigeon  to  the  mag- 
istrate. "  No,  it  is  impossible !  and  no  doubt  he  will 
very  easily  scatter  all  our  doubts  to  the  four  winds." 

"  And  that  will  be  done  at  once,"  said  young  Ribot ; 
"  for  here  we  are." 

In  many  of  the  provinces  of  France  the  name  of 
chateau  is  given  almost  to  any  little  country-house 
with  a  weathercock  on  its  pointed  roof.  But  Bois- 
coran  was  a  real  chateau.  It  had  been  built  towards 
the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century,  in  wretched  taste, 
but  massively,  like  a  fortress.  Its  position  is  superb. 
It  is  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  woods  and  forests; 
and  at  the  foot  of  the  sloping  garden  flows  a  little 
river,  merrily  splashing  over  its  pebbly  bed,  and  called 
the  Magpie  on  account  of  its  perpetual  babbling. 


VII. 

IT  was  seven  o'clock  when  the  carriage  containing 
the  justice  drove  into  the  courtyard  at  Boiscoran, — a 
vast  court,  planted  with  lime-trees,  and  surrounded  by 
farm  buildings.  The  chateau  was  wide  awake.  Be- 
fore her  house-door,  the  farmer's  wife  was  cleaning 
the  huge  caldron  in  which  she  had  prepared  the  morn- 
ing soup;  the  maids  were  going  and  coming;  and  at 
the  stable  a  groom  was  rubbing  down  with  great 
energy  a  thorough-bred  horse. 

On  the  front-steps  stood  Master  Anthony,  M.   de 


72       WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

Boiscoran's  own  man,  smoking  his  cigar  in  the  bright 
sunlight,  and  overlooking  the  farm  operations.  He 
was  a  man  of  nearly  fifty,  still  very  active,  who  had 
been  bequeathed  to  his  new  master  by  his  uncle,  to- 
gether with  his  possessions.  He  was  a  widower  now ; 
and  his  daughter  was  in  the  marchioness'  service. 

As  he  had  been  born  in  the  family,  and  never  left  it 
afterwards,  he  looked  upon  himself  as  one  of  them,  and 
saw  no  difference  between  his  own  interests  and  those 
of  his  master.  In  fact,  he  was  treated  less  like  a 
servant  than  like  a  friend;  and  he  fancied  he  knew 
every  thing  about  M.  de  Boiscoran's  affairs. 

When  he  saw  the  magistrate  and  the  commonwealth 
attorney  come  up  to  the  door,  he  threw  away  his 
cigar,  came  down  quickly,  and,  bowing  deeply,  said  to 
them  with  his  most  engaging  smile, — 

"  Ah,  gentlemen !  what  a  pleasant  surprise !  My 
master  will  be  delighted." 

With  strangers,  Anthony  would  not  have  allowed 
himself  such  familiarity,  for  he  was  very  formal;  but 
he  had  seen  M.  Daubigeon  more  than  once  at  the  cha- 
teau ;  and  he  knew  the  plans  that  had  been  discussed 
between  M.  Galpin  and  his  master.  Hence  he  was 
not  a  little  amazed  at  the  embarrassed  stiffness  of  the 
two  gentlemen,  and  at  the  tone  of  voice  in  which  the 
magistrate  asked  him, — 

"  Has  M.  de  Boiscoran  gotten  up  yet?" 

"  Not  yet,"  he  replied ;  "  and  I  have  orders  not  to 
wake  him.  He  came  home  late  last  night,  and  wanted 
to  make  up  this  morning." 

Instinctively  the  magistrate  and  the  attorney  looked 
away,  each  fearing  to  meet  the  other's  eyes. 

"  Ah !  M.  de  Boiscoran  came  home  late  last  night?  " 
repeated  M.  Galpin. 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE       73 

"  Towards  midnight,  rather  after  midnight  than  be- 
fore." 

"  And  when  had  he  gone  out  ?  " 

"  He  left  here  about  eight." 

"  How  was  he  dressed  ?  " 

"  As  usually.  He  had  light  gray  trousers,  a  shoot- 
ing-jacket of  brown  velveteen,  and  a  large  straw  hat." 

"Did  he  take  his  gun?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Do  you  know  where  he  went?  " 

But  for  the  respect  which  he  felt  for  his  master's 
friends,  Anthony  would  not  have  answered  these  ques- 
tions, which  he  thought  were  extremely  impertinent. 
But  this  last  question  seemed  to  him  to  go  beyond  all 
fair  limits.  He  replied,  therefore,  in  a  tone  of  injured 
self-respect, — 

"  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  asking  my  master  where 
he  goes  when  he  leaves  the  house,  nor  where  he  has 
been  when  he  comes  back." 

M.  Daubigeon  understood  perfectly  well  the  honor- 
able feelings  which  actuated  the  faithful  servant.  He 
said  to  him  with  an  air  of  unmistakable  kindness, — 

"  Do  not  imagine,  my  friend,  that  I  ask  you  these 
questions  from  mere  idle  curiosity.  Tell  me  what  you 
know ;  for  your  frankness  may  be  more  useful  to  your 
master  than  you  imagine." 

Anthony  looked  with  an  air  of  perfect  stupefaction, 
by  turns  at  the  magistrate  and  the  commonwealth  at- 
torney, at  Mechinet,  and  finally  at  Ribot,  who  had 
taken  the  lines,  and  tied  Caraby  to  a  tree. 

"  I  assure  you,  gentlemen,  I  do  not  know  where  M. 
de  Boiscoran  has  spent  the  evening." 

"  You  have  no  suspicion  ?  " 

"  No." 


74       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Perhaps  he  went  to  Brechy  to  see  a  friend  ?  " 
"  I  do  not  know  that  he  has  any  friends  in  Brechy." 
"  What  did  he  do  after  he  came  home  ?  " 
The  old  servant  showed  evident  signs  of  embarrass- 
ment. 

"  Let  me  think,"  he  said.    "  My  master  went  up  to 

his  bedroom,  and  remained  there  four  or  five  minutes. 

Then  he  came  down,  ate  a  piece  of  a  pie,  and  drank  a 

glass  of  wine.    Then  he  lit  a  cigar,  and  told  me  to  go 

to  bed,  adding  that  he  would  take  a  little  walk,  and 

undress  without  my  help." 

"  And  then  you  went  to  bed  ?  " 

','  Of  course/' 

"  So  that  you  do  not  know  what  your  master  may 

have  done  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  heard  him  open  the  garden 

door." 

"  He  did  not  appear  to  you  different  from  usual  ?  " 
"  No :  he  was  as  he  always  is, — quite  cheerful :  he 

was  singing." 

"  Can  you  show  me  the  gun  he  took  with  him  ?  " 
"  No.    My  master  probably  took  it  to  his  room." 
M.  Daubigeon  was  about  to  make  a  remark,  when 

the  magistrate  stopped  him  by  a  gesture,  and  eagerly 

asked, — 

"  How  long  is  it  since  your  master  and  Count  Clau- 

dieuse  have  ceased  seeing  each  other  ? " 

Anthony  trembled,  as  if  a  dark  presentiment  had 

entered  his  mind.    He  replied, — 
"  A  long  time :  at  least  I  think  so." 
"  You  are  aware  that  they  are  on  bad  terms  ?  " 
"  Oh !  " 

"  They  have  had  great  difficulties  between  them  ?  " 
"  Something  unpleasant  has  happened,  I  know ;  but 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       75 

it  was  not  much.  As  they  do  not  visit  each  other,  they 
cannot  well  hate  each  other.  Besides,  I  have  heard 
master  say  a  hundred  times,  that  he  looked  upon  Count 
Claudieuse  as  one  of  the  best  and  most  honorable  men ; 
that  he  respected  him  highly,  and  " — 

For  a  minute  or  so  M.  Galpin  kept  silent,  thinking 
whether  he  had  forgotten  any  thing.  Then  he  asked 
suddenly, — 

"  How  far  is  it  from  here  to  Valpinson?  " 

"  Three  miles,  sir,"  replied  Anthony. 

"  If  you  were  going  there,  what  road  would  you 
take?" 

"  The  high  road  which  passes  Brechy." 

"  You  would  not  go  across  the  marsh  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  the  Seille  is  out  of  its  banks,  and  the 
ditches  are  full  of  water." 

"  Is  not  the  way  much  shorter  through  the  forest?  " 

"  Yes,  the  way  is  shorter ;  but  it  would  take  more 
time.  The  paths  are  very  indistinct,  and  overgrown 
with  briers." 

The  commonwealth  attorney  could  hardly  conceal 
his  disappointment.  Anthony's  answers  seemed  to  be- 
come worse  and  worse. 

"  Now,"  said  the  magistrate  again,  "  if  fire  should 
break  out  at  Valpinson,  would  you  see  it  from  here  ?  " 

"  I  think  not,  sir.  There  are  hills  and  tall  woods 
between." 

"  Can  you  hear  the  Brechy  bells  from  here  ?  " 

"  When  the  wind  is  north,  yes,  sir." 

"  And  last  night,  how  was  it  ?  " 

"  The  wind  was  from  the  west,  as  it  always  is  when 
we  have  a  storm." 


76       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  So  that  you  have  heard  nothing?     You  do  not 

know  what  a  terrible  calamity  " — 

"  A  calamity  ?    I  do  not  understand  you,  sir," 

This  conversation  had  taken  place  in  the  court-yard ; 

and  at  this  moment  there  appeared  two  gendarmes  on 

horseback,  whom  M.  Galpin  had  sent  for  just  before 

he  left  Valpinson. 

When  old  Anthony  saw  them,  he  exclaimed, — 

"  Great  God !  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?    I  must 

wake  master." 

The  magistrate  stopped  him,  saying  harshly, — 
"  Not  a  step !    Don't  say  a  word  !  " 
And,  pointing  out  Ribot  to  the  gendarmes,  he  said, — 
"  Keep  that  lad  under  your  eyes,  and  let  him  have  no 

communication  with  anybody." 

Then,  turning  again  to  Anthony,  he  said, — 
"  Now  show  us  to  M.  de  Boiscoran's  bedroom." 


VIII. 

IN  spite  of  its  grand  feudal  air,  the  chateau  at  Bois- 
coran  was,  after  all,  little  more  than  a  bachelor's  mod- 
est home,  and  in  a  very  bad  state  of  preservation.  Of 
the  eighty  or  a  hundred  rooms  which  it  contained, 
hardly  more  than  eight  or  ten  were  furnished,  and  this 
only  in  the  simplest  possible  manner, — a  sitting-room, 
a  dining-room,  a  few  guest-chambers :  this  was  all  M. 
de  Boiscoran  required  during  his  rare  visits  to  the 
place.  He  himself  used  in  the  second  story  a  small 
room,  the  door  of  which  opened  upon  the  great  stair- 
case. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       77 

When  they  reached  this  door,  guided  by  old  An- 
thony, the  magistrate  said  to  the  servant, — 

"  Knock !  " 

The  man  obeyed :  and  immediately  a  youthful,  hearty 
voice  replied  from  within, — 

"Who  is  there?" 

"It  is  I,"  said  the  faithful  servant.  "I  should 
like  "— 

"  Go  to  the  devil !  "  broke  in  the  voice. 

"  But,  sir  "— 

"  Let  me  sleep,  rascal.  I  have  not  been  able  to  close 
an  eye  till  now."  The  magistrate,  becoming  impatient, 
pushed  the  servant  aside,  and,  seizing  the  door-knob 
tried  to  open  it;  it  was  locked  inside.  But  he  lost  no 
time  in  saying, — 

"  It  is  I,  M.  de  Boiscoran :  open,  if  you  please !  " 

"  Ah,  dear  M.  Galpin !  "  replied  the  voice  cheerfully. 

"  I  must  speak  to  you." 

"  And  I  am  at  your  service,  illustrious  jurist.  Just 
give  me  time  to  veil  my  Apollonian  form  in  a  pair  of 
trousers,  and  I  appear/' 

Almost  immediately,  the  door  opened;  and  M.  de 
Boiscoran  presented  himself,  his  hair  dishevelled,  his 
eyes  heavy  with  sleep,  but  looking  bright  in  his  youth 
and  full  health,  with  smiling  lips  and  open  hands. 

"  Upon  my  word !  "  he  said.  "  That  was  a  happy 
inspiration  you  had,  my  dear  Galpin.  You  come  to 
join  me  at  breakfast?  " 

And,  bowing  to  M.  Daubigeon,  he  added, — 

"  Not  to  say  how  much  I  thank  you  for  bringing  our 
excellent  commonwealth  attorney  with  you.  This  is  a 
veritable  judicial  visit  " — 

But  he  paused,  chilled  as  he  was  by  M.  Daubigeon's 


78       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

icy  face,  and  amazed  at  M.  Galpin's  refusal  to  take  his 
proffered  hand. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  "  what  is  the  matter,  my  dear 
friend?" 

The  magistrate  had  never  been  stiffer  in  his  life, 
when  he  replied, — 

"  We  shall  have  to  forget  our  relations,  sir.  It  is 
not  as  a  friend  I  come  to-day,  but  as  a  magistrate." 

M.  de  Boiscoran  looked  confounded;  but  not  a 
shadow  of  trouble  appeared  on  his  frank  and  open 
face. 

"  I'll  be  hanged,"  he  said,  "  if  I  understand  "— 

"  Let  us  go  in,"  said  M.  Galpin. 

They  went  in ;  and,  as  they  passed  the  door,  Mechi- 
net  whispered  into  the  attorney's  ear, — 

"  Sir,  that  man  is  certainly  innocent.  A  guilty  man 
would  never  have  received  us  thus." 

"  Silence,  sir !  "  said  the  commonwealth  attorney, 
however  much  he  was  probably  of  his  clerk's  opinion. 
"  Silence !  " 

And  grave  and  sad  he  went  and  stood  in  one  of  the 
window  embrasures.  M.  Galpin  remained  standing  in 
the  centre  of  the  room,  trying  to  see  every  thing  in  it, 
and  to  fix  it  in  his  memory,  down  to  the  smallest  de- 
tails. The  prevailing  disorder  showed  clearly  how 
hastily  M.  de  Boiscoran  had  gone  to  bed  the  night  be- 
fore. His  clothes,  his  boots,  his  shirt,  his  waistcoat, 
and  his  straw  hat  lay  scattered  about  on  the  chairs  and 
on  the  floor.  He  wore  those  light  gray  trousers,  which 
had  been  successively  seen  and  recognized  by  Cocoleu, 
by  Ribot,  by  Gaudry,  and  by  Mrs.  Courtois. 

"  Now,  sir,"  began  M.  de  Boiscoran,  with  that 
slightly  angry  tone  of  voice  which  shows  that  a  man 
thinks  a  joke  has  been  carried  far  enough,  "  will  you 


WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       79 

please  tell  me  what  procures  for  me  the  honor  of  this 
early  visit?  " 

Not  a  muscle  in  M.  Galpin's  face  was  moving.  As 
if  the  question  had  been  addressed  to  some  one  else,  he 
said  coldly, — 

"  Will  you  please  show  us  your  hands,  sir  ?  " 

M.  de  Boiscoran's  cheeks  turned  crimson ;  and  his 
eyes  assumed  an  expression  of  strange  perplexity. 

"  If  this  is  a  joke,"  he  said,  "  it  has  perhaps  lasted 
long  enough." 

He  was  evidently  getting  angry.  M.  Daubigeon 
thought  it  better  to  interfere,  and  thus  he  said, — 

"  Unfortunately,  sir,  the  question  is  a  most  serious 
one.  Do  what  the  magistrate  desires." 

More  and  more  amazed,  M.  de  Boiscoran  looked 
rapidly  around  him.  In  the  door  stood  Anthony,  his 
faithful  old  servant,  with  anguish  on  his  face.  Near 
the  fireplace,  the  clerk  had  improvised  a  table,  and  put 
his  paper,  his  pens,  and  his  horn  inkstand  in  readiness. 
Then  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  which  showed  that 
he  failed  to  understand,  M.  de  Boiscoran  showed  his 
hands. 

They  were  perfectly  clean  and  white :  the  long  nails 
were  carefully  cleaned  also. 

"  When  did  you  last  wash  your  hands  ?  "  asked  M. 
Galpin,  after  having  examined  them  minutely. 

At  this  question,  M.  de  Boiscoran's  face  brightened 
up ;  and,  breaking  out  into  a  hearty  laugh,  he  said, — 

"  Upon  my  word !  I  confess  you  nearly  caught  me. 
I  was  on  the  point  of  getting  angry.  I  almost 
feared  " — 

"  And  there  was  good  reason  for  fear,"  said  M. 
Galpin ;  "  for  a  terrible  charge  has  been  brought 
against  you.  And  it  may  be,  that  on  your  answer  to 


8o      WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

my  question,  ridiculous  as  it  seems  to  you,  your  honor 
may  depend,  and  perhaps  your  liberty." 

This  time  there  was  no  mistake  possible.  M.  de 
Boiscoran  felt  that  kind  of  terror  which  the  law  in- 
spires even  in  the  best  of  men,  when  they  find  them- 
selves suddenly  accused  of  a  crime.  He  turned  pale, 
and  then  he  said  in  a  troubled  voice, — 

"  What !  A  charge  has  been  brought  against  me, 
and  you,  M.  Galpin,  come  to  my  house  to  examine 
me?" 

"  I  am  a  magistrate,  sir." 

"  But  you  were  also  my  friend.  If  any  one  should 
have  dared  in  my  presence  to  accuse  you  of  a  crime, 
of  a  mean  act,  of  something  infamous,  I  should  have 
defended  you,  sir,  with  all  my  energy,  without  hesi- 
tation, and  without  a  doubt.  I  should  have  defended 
you  till  absolute,  undeniable  evidence  should  have  been 
brought  forward  of  your  culpability;  and  even  then  I 
should  have  pitied  you,  remembering  that  I  had  es- 
teemed you  so  highly  as  to  favor  your  alliance  with  my 
family.  But  you — I  am  accused,  I  do  not  know  of 
what,  falsely,  wrongly ;  and  at  once  you  hasten  hither, 
you  believe  the  charge,  and  consent  to  become  my 
judge.  Well,  let  it  be  so!  I  washed  my  hands  last 
night  after  coming  home." 

M.  Galpin  had  not  boasted  too  much  in  praising  his 
self-possession  and  his  perfect  control  over  himself. 
He  did  not  move  when  the  terrible  words  fell  upon  his 
ear;  and  he  asked  again  in  the  same  calm  tone, — 

"  What  has  become  of  the  water  you  used  for  that 
purpose  ?  " 

"  It  is  probably  still  there,  in  my  dressing-room." 

The  magistrate  at  once  went  in.  On  the  marble 
table  stood  a  basin  full  of  water.  That  water  was 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       81 

black  and  dirty.  At  the  bottom  lay  particles  of  char- 
coal. On  the  top,  mixed  with  the  soapsuds,  were 
swimming  some  extremely  slight  but  unmistakable 
fragments  of  charred  paper.  With  infinite  care  the 
magistrate  carried  the  basin  to  the  table  at  which  Me- 
chinet  had  taken  a  seat;  and,  pointing  at  it,  he  asked 
M.  de  Boiscoran, — 

"  Is  that  the  water  in  which  you  washed  your  hands 
last  night  after  coming  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other  with  an  air  of  careless  in- 
difference." 

"  You  had  been  handling  charcoal,  or  some  inflam- 
mable material. 

"  Don't  you  see?  " 

Standing  face  to  face,  the  commonwealth  attorney 
and  clerk  exchanged  rapid  glances.  They  had  had  the 
same  feeling  at  that  moment.  If  M.  de  Boiscoran  was 
innocent,  he  was  certainly  a  marvellously  cool  and 
energetic  man,  or  he  was  carrying  out  a  long-premedi- 
tated plan  of  action;  for  every  one  of  his  answers 
seemed  to  tighten  the  net  in  which  he  was  taken.  The 
magistrate  himself  seemed  to  be  struck  by  this ;  but  it 
was  only  for  a  moment,  and  then,  turning  to  the  clerk, 
he  said, — 

"  Write  that  down !  " 

He  dictated  to  him  the  whole  evidence,  most  mi- 
nutely and  accurately,  correcting  himself  every  now 
and  then  to  substitute  a  better  word,  or  to  improve 
his  style.  When  he  had  read  it  over  he  said, — 

"  Let  us  go  on,  sir.    You  were  out  last  night?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Having  left  the  house  at  eight,  you  returned  only 
about  midnight." 

"  After  midnight." 


82       WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  You  took  your  gun?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Where  is  it?" 

With  an  air  of  indifference,  M.  de  Boiscoran  pointed 
at  it  in  the  corner  of  the  fireplace,  and  said, — 

"  There  it  is !  " 

M.  Galpin  took  it  up  quickly.  It  was  a  superb 
weapon,  double-barrelled,  of  unusually  fine  make,  and 
very  elegant.  On  the  beautifully  carved  woodwork 
the  manufacturer's  name,  Clebb,  was  engraven. 

"  When  did  you  last  fire  this  gun  ?  "  asked  the  mag- 
istrate. 

"  Some  four  or  five  days  ago." 

"What  for?" 

"  To  shoot  some  rabbits  who  infested  my  woods." 

M.  Galpin  raised  and  lowered  the  cock  with  all  pos- 
sible care :  he  noticed  that  it  was  the  Remington  patent. 
Then  he  opened  the  chamber,  and  found  that  the  gun 
was  loaded.  Each  barrel  had  a  cartridge  in  it.  Then 
he  put  the  gun  back  in  its  place,  and,  pulling  from  his 
pocket  the  leaden  cartridge-case  which  Pitard  had 
found,  he  showed  it  to  M.  de  Boiscoran,  and  asked 
him, — 

"  Do  you  recognize  this  ?  " 

"  Perfectly !  "  replied  the  other.  "  It  is  a  case  of  one 
of  the  cartridges  which  I  have  probably  thrown  away 
as  useless/' 

"  Do  you  think  you  are  the  only  one  in  this  country 
who  has  a  gun  by  this  maker  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  it :  I  am  quite  sure  of  it." 

"  So  that  you  must,  as  a  matter  of  course,  have  been 
at  a  spot  where  such  a  cartridge-case  as  this  has  been 
found?" 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       83 

"  Not  necessarily.  I  have  often  seen  children  pick 
up  these  things,  and  play  with  them." 

The  clerk,  while  he  made  his  pen  fly  across  his  paper, 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  making  all  kinds  of 
faces.  He  was  too  well  acquainted  with  lawyers'  tac- 
tics not  to  understand  M.  Galpin's  policy  perfectly 
well,  and  to  see  how  cunningly  it  was  devised  to  make 
every  fact  strengthen  the  suspicion  against  M.  de  Bois- 
coran. 

"  It  is  a  close  game,"  he  said  to  himself. 

The  magistrate  had  taken  a  seat. 

"  If  that  is  so,"  he  began  again,  "  I  beg  you  will 
give  me  an  account  of  how  you  spent  the  evening  after 
eight  o'clock:  do  not  hurry,  consider,  take  your  time; 
for  your  answers  are  of  the  utmost  importance." 

M.  de  Boiscoran  had  so  far  remained  quite  cool ;  but 
his  calmness  betrayed  one  of  those  terrible  storms  with- 
in, which  may  break  forth,  no  one  knows  when.  This 
warning,  and,  even  more  so,  the  tone  in  which  it  was 
given,  revolted  him  as  a  most  hideous  hypocrisy.  And, 
breaking  out  all  of  a  sudden,  he  cried, — 

"  After  all,  sir,  what  do  you  want  of  me  ?  What 
am  I  accused  of?  " 

M.  Galpin  did  not  stir.    He  replied, — 

"  You  will  hear  it  at  the  proper  time.  First  answer 
my  question,  and  believe  me  in  your  own  interest.  An- 
swer frankly,  What  did  you  do  last  night?  " 

"  How  do  I  know  ?    I  walked  about." 

"  That  is  no  answer." 

"  Still  it  is  so.  I  went  out  with  no  specific  purpose: 
I  walked  at  haphazard." 

"  Your  gun  on  your  shoulder  ?  " 

"  I  always  take  my  gun :  my  servant  can  tell  you  so." 

"  Did  you  cross  the  Seille  marshes  ?  " 


84      WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  No." 

The  magistrate  shook  his  head  gravely.    He  said, — 

"  You  are  not  telling  the  truth." 

"Sir!" 

"  Your  boots  there  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  speak 
against  you.  Where  does  the  mud  come  from  with 
which  they  are  covered  ?  " 

"  The  meadows  around  Boiscoran  are  very  wet." 

"  Do  not  attempt  to  deny  it.  You  have  been  seen 
there." 

"  But  "— 

"  Young  Ribot  met  you  at  the  moment  when  you 
were  crossing  the  canal." 

M.  de  Boiscoran  made  no  reply. 

"  Where  were  you  going  ?  "  asked  the  magistrate. 

For  the  first  time  a  real  embarrassment  appeared  in 
the  features  of  the  accused, — the  embarrassment  of  a 
man  who  suddenly  sees  an  abyss  opening  before  him. 
He  hesitated;  and,  seeing  that  it  was  useless  to  deny, 
he  said, — 

"  I  was  going  to  Brechy." 

"To  whom?" 

"  To  my  wood-merchant,  who  has  bought  all  this 
year's  wood.  I  did  not  find  him  at  home,  and  came 
back  on  the  high  road." 

M.  Galpin  stopped  him  by  a  gesture. 

"  That  is  not  so,"  he  said  severely. 

"Oh!" 

"  You  never  went  to  Brechy." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  And  the  proof  is,  that,  about  eleven  o'clock,  you 
were  hurriedly  crossing  the  forest  of  Rochepommier." 
•:"  I?  " 

"  Yes,  you !    And  do  not  say  No ;  for  there  are  your 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       85 

trousers  torn  to  pieces  by  the  thorns  and  briers  through 
which  you  must  have  made  your  way." 

"  There  are  briers  elsewhere  as  well  as  in  the  forest." 

"  To  be  sure ;  but  you  were  seen  there." 

"By  whom?" 

"  By  Gaudry  the  poacher.  And  he  saw  so  much  of 
you,  that  he  could  tell  us  in  what  a  bad  humor  you 
were.  You  were  very  angry.  You  were  talking  loud, 
and  pulling  the  leaves  from  the  trees." 

As  he  said  so,  the  magistrate  got  up  and  took  the 
shooting-jacket,  which  was  lying  on  a  chair  not  far 
from  him.  He  searched  the  pockets,  and  pulled  out 
of  one  a  handful  of  leaves. 

"  Look  here !  you  see,  Gaudry  has  told  the  truth." 

"  There  are  leaves  everywhere,"  said  M.  de  Bois- 
coran  half  loud. 

"  Yes ;  but  a  woman,  Mrs.  Courtois,  saw  you  come 
out  of  the  forest  of  Rochepommier.  You  helped  her  to 
put  a  sack  of  flour  on  her  ass,  which  she  could  not  lift 
alone.  Do  you  deny  it  ?  No,  you  are  right ;  for,  look 
here !  on  the  sleeve  of  your  coat  I  see  something  white, 
which,  no  doubt,  is  flour  from  her  bag." 

M.  de  Boiscoran  hung  his  head.  The  magistrate 
went  on, — 

"  You  confess,  then,  that  last  night,  between  ten  and 
eleven,  you  were  at  Valpinson  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  do  not." 

"  But  this  cartridge-case  which  I  have  just  shown 
you  was  picked  up  at  Valpinson,  close  by  the  ruins  of 
the  old  castle." 

"Well,  sir,  have  I  not  told  you  before  that  I  have 
seen  a  hundred  times  children  pick  up  these  cases  to 
play  with  ?  Besides,  if  I  had  really  been  at  Valpinson, 
why  should  I  deny  it  ?  " 


86       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

M.  Galpin  rose  to  his  full  height,  and  said  in  the 
most  solemn  manner, — 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you  why !  Last  night,  between 
ten  and  eleven,  Valpinson  was  set  on  fire;  and  it  has 
been  burnt  to  the  ground." 

"  Oh !  " 

"  Last  night  Count  Claudieuse  was  fired  at  twice." 

"Great  God!" 

"And  it  is  thought,  in  fact  there  are  strong  reasons 
to  think,  that  you,  Jacques  de  Boiscoran,  are  the  in- 
cendiary and  the  assassin." 


IX. 


M.  DE  BOISCORAN  looked  around  him  like  a  man  who 
has  suddenly  been  seized  with  vertigo,  pale,  as  if  all 
his  blood  had  rushed  to  his  heart. 

He  saw  nothing  but  mournful,  dismayed  faces. 

Anthony,  his  old  trusted  servant,  was  leaning  against 
the  doorpost,  as  if  he  feared  to  fall.  The  clerk  was 
mending  his  pen  in  the  air,  overcome  with  amazement. 
M.  Daubigeon  hung  his  head. 

"  This  is  horrible !  "  he  murmured :  "  this  is  hor- 
rible !  " 

He  fell  heavily  into  a  chair,  pressing  his  hands  on 
his  heart,  as  if  to  keep  down  the  sobs  that  threatened 
to  rise.  M.  Galpin  alone  seemed  to  remain  perfectly 
cool.  The  law,  which  he  imagined  he  was  represent- 
ing in  all  its  dignity,  knows  nothing  of  emotions.  His 
thin  lips  even  trembled  a  little,  as  if  a  slight  smile  was 
about  to  burst  forth :  it  was  the  cold  smile  of  the  am- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       87 

bitious  man,  who  thinks  he  has  played  his  little  part 
well. 

Did  not  every  thing  tend  to  prove  that  Jacques  de 
Boiscoran  was  the  guilty  man,  and  that,  in  the  alterna- 
tive between  a  friend,  and  an  opportunity  of  gaining 
high  distinction,  he  had  chosen  well  ?  After  the  silence 
of  a  minute,  which  seemed  to  be  a  century,  he  went 
and  stood,  with  arms  crossed  on  his  chest,  before  the 
accused,  and  asked  him, — 

"  Do  you  confess  ?  " 

M.  de  Boiscoran  sprang  up  as  if  moved  by  a  spring, 
and  said, — 

"  What?    What  do  you  want  me  to  confess?  " 

"  That  you  have  committed  the  crime  at  Valpinson." 

The  young  man  pressed  his  hands  convulsively  on 
his  brow,  and  cried  out, — 

"  But  I  am  mad !  I  should  have  committed  such  a 
fearful,  cowardly  crime?  Is  that  possible?  Is  that 
likely?  I  might  confess,  and  you  would  not  believe  me. 
No !  I  am  sure  you  would  not  believe  my  own  words." 

He  would  have  moved  the  marble  on  his  mantelpiece 
sooner  than  M.  Galpin.  The  latter  replied  in  icy 
tones, — 

"  I  am  not  part  of  the  question  here.  Why  will  you 
refer  to  relations  which  must  be  forgotten?  It  is  no 
longer  the  friend  who  speaks  to  you,  not  even  the  man, 
but  simply  the  magistrate.  You  were  seen  " — 

"  Who  is  the  wretch  ?  " 

"  Cocoleu !  " 

M.  de  Boiscoran  seemed  to  be  overwhelmed.  He 
stammered, — 

"  Cocoleu  ?  That  poor  epileptic  idiot  whom  the 
Countess  Claudieuse  has  picked  up  ?  " 

"  The  same." 


88       WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  And  upon  the  strength  of  the  senseless  words  of  a 
poor  imbecile  I  am  charged  with  incendiarism,  with 
murder  ?  " 

Never  had  the  magistrate  made  such  efforts  to  as- 
sume an  air  of  impassive  dignity  and  icy  solemnity,  as 
when  he  replied, — 

"  For  an  hour,  at  least,  poor  Cocoleu  has  been  in  the 
full  enjoyment  of  his  faculties.  The  ways  of  Provi- 
dence are  inscrutable." 

"  But  sir  "— 

"  And  what  does  Cocoleu  depose  ?  He  says  he  saw 
you  kindle  the  fire  with  your  own  hands,  then  conceal 
yourself  behind  a  pile  of  wood,  and  fire  twice  at 
Count  Claudieuse." 

"  And  all  that  appears  quite  natural  to  you  ?  " 

"  No !  At  first  it  shocked  me,  as  it  shocked  every- 
body. You  seem  to  be  so  far  above  all  suspicion.  But 
a  moment  afterwards  they  pick  up  the  cartridge-case, 
which  can  only  have  belonged  to  you.  Then,  upon  my 
arrival  here,  I  surprise  you  in  bed,  and  find  the  water 
in  which  you  have  washed  your  hands  black  with  coal, 
and  little  pieces  of  charred  paper  swimming  on  top 
of  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  M.  de  Boiscoran  in  an  undertone :  "  it  is 
fate." 

"  And  that  is  not  all,"  continued  the  magistrate,  rais- 
ing his  voice,  "  I  examine  you,  and  you  admit  having 
been  out  from  eight  o'clock  till  after  midnight.  I  ask 
what  you  have  been  doing,  and  you  refuse  to  tell  me.  I 
insist,  and  you  tell  a  falsehood.  In  order  to  overwhelm 
you,  I  am  forced  to  quote  the  evidence  of  young  Ribot, 
of  Gaudry,  and  Mrs.  Courtois,  who  have  seen  you  at  the 
very  places  where  you  deny  having  been.  That  circum- 
stance alone  condemns  you.  Why  should  you  not  be 


HE  STOOD  WITH  ARMS  CROSSED  ON  HIS  CHEST,   BEFORE  THE  ACCUSED, 
AND   ASKED   HIM:    "DO   YOU   CONFESS?" 


WITHIN    AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE       89 

willing  to  tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing  during 
those  four  hours?  You  claim  to  be  innocent.  Help 
me,  then,  to  establish  your  innocence.  Speak,  tell  me 
what  you  were  doing  between  eight  and  midnight." 

M.  de  Boiscoran  had  no  time  to  answer. 

For  some  time  already,  half-suppressed  cries,  and  the 
sound  of  a  large  crowd,  had  come  up  from  the  court- 
yard. A  gendarme  came  in  quite  excited ;  and,  turn- 
ing to  the  magistrate  and  the  commonwealth  attorney, 
he  said, — 

"  Gentlemen,  there  are  several  hundred  peasants, 
men  and  women,  in  the  yard,  who  clamor  for  M.  de 
Boiscoran.  They  threaten  to  drag  him  down  to  the 
river.  Some  of  the  men  are  armed  with  pitchforks ; 
"but  the  women  are  the  maddest.  My  comrade  and  I 
have  done  our  best  to  keep  them  quiet." 

And  just  then,  as  if  to  confirm  what  he  said,  the 
cries  came  nearer,  growing  louder  and  louder ;  and  one 
could  distinctly  hear, — 

"  Drown  Boiscoran  !    Let  us  drown  the  incendiary !  " 

The  attorney  rose,  and  told  the  gendarme, — 

"  Go  down  and  tell  these  people  that  the  authorities 
are  this  moment  examining  the  accused ;  that  they  in- 
terrupt us ;  and  that,  if  they  keep  on,  they  will  have  to 
do  with  me." 

The  gendarme  obeyed  his  orders.  M.  de  Boiscoran 
had  turned  deadly  pale.  He  said  to  himself, — 

"  These  unfortunate  people  believe  my  guilt !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  M.  Galpin,  who  had  overheard  the 
words ;  "  and  you  would  comprehend  their  rage,  for 
which  there  is  good  reason,  if  you  knew  all  that  has 
happened." 

"What  else?" 

"  Two  Sauveterre  firemen,  one  the  father  of  five 


9o       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

children,  have  perished  in  the  flames.  Two  other  men, 
a  farmer  from  Brechy,  and  a  gendarme  who  tried  to 
rescue  them,  have  been  so  seriously  burned  that  their 
lives  are  in  danger." 

M.  de  Boiscoran  said  nothing. 

"  And  it  is  you,"  continued  the  magistrate,  "  who  is 
charged  with  all  these  calamities.  You  see  how  im- 
portant it  is  for  you  to  exculpate  yourself." 

"Ah!  how  can  I?" 

"  If  you  are  innocent,  nothing  is  easier.  Tell  us 
how  you  employed  yourself  last  night." 

"  I  have  told  you  all  I  can  say." 

The  magistrate  seemed  to  reflect  for  a  full  minute ; 
then  he  said, — 

"  Take  care,  M.  de  Boiscoran :  I  shall  have  to  have 
you  arrested." 

"  Do  so." 

"  I  shall  be  obliged  to  order  your  arrest  at  once,  and 
to  send  you  to  jail  in  Sauveterre." 

"  Very  well." 

"  Then  you  confess  ?  " 

"  I  confess  that  I  am  the  victim  of  an  unheard-of 
combination  of  circumstances ;  I  confess  that  you  are 
right,  and  that  certain  fatalities  can  only  be  explained 
by  the  belief  in  Providence :  but  I  swear  by  all  that  is 
holy  in  the  world,  I  am  innocent." 

"  Prove  it." 

"  Ah !  would  I  not  do  it  if  I  could?  " 

"  Be  good  enough,  then,  to  dress,  sir,  and  to  follow 
the  gendarmes." 

Without  a  word,  M.  de  Boiscoran  went  into  his 
dressing-room,  followed  by  his  servant,  who  carried 
him  his  clothes.  M.  Galpin  was  so  busy  dictating  to 
the  clerk  the  latter  part  of  the  examination,  that  he 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       91 

seemed  to  forget  his  prisoner.  Old  Anthony  availed 
himself  of  this  opportunity. 

"  Sir,"  he  whispered  into  his  master's  ear  while  help- 
ing him  to  put  on  his  clothes. 

"What?" 

"  Hush  !  Don't  speak  so  loud  !  The  other  window  is 
open.  It  is  only  about  twenty  feet  .to  the  ground:  the 
ground  is  soft.  Close  by  is  one  of  the  cellar  openings ; 
and  in  there,  you  know,  there  is  the  old  hiding-place. 
It  is  only  five  miles  to  the  coast,  and  I  will  have  a 
good  horse  ready  for  you  to-night,  at  the  park-gate." 

A  bitter  smile  rose  on  M.  de  Boiscoran's  lips,  as  he 
said, — 

"  And  you  too,  my  old  friend :  you  think  I  am 
guilty?" 

"  I  conjure  you,"  said  Anthony,  "  I  answer  for  any 
thing.  It  is  barely  twenty  feet.  In  your  mother's 
name  " — 

But,  instead  of  answering  him,  M.  de  Boiscoran 
turned  round,  and  called  M.  Galpin.  When  he  had 
come  in,  he  said  to  him,  "  Look  at  that  window,  sir ! 
I  have  money,  fast  horses ;  and  the  sea  is  only  five  miles 
off.  A  guilty  man  would  have  escaped.  I  stay  here; 
for  I  am  innocent." 

In  one  point,  at  least,  M.  de  Boiscoran  had  been 
right.  Nothing  would  have  been  easier  for  him  than 
to  escape,  to  get  into  the  garden,  and  to  reach  the  hid- 
ing-place which  his  servant  had  suggested  to  him. 
But  after  that?  He  had,  to  be  sure,  with  old  Antho- 
ny's assistance,  some  chance  of  escaping  altogether. 
But,  after  all,  he  might  have  been  found  out  in  his 
hiding-place,  or  he  might  have  been  overtaken  in  his 
ride  to  the  coast.  Even  if  he  had  succeeded,  what 
would  have  become  of  him?  His  flight  would  neces- 


92       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

sarily  have  been  looked  upon  as  a  confession  of  his 
guilt. 

Under  such  circumstances,  to  resist  the  temptation 
to  escape,  and  to  make  this  resistance  well  known, 
was  in  fact  not  so  much  an  evidence  of  innocence  as 
a  proof  of  great  cleverness.  M.  Galpin,  at  all  events, 
looked  upon  it  in  that  light;  for  he  judged  others  by 
himself.  Carefully  and  cunningly  calculating  every 
step  he  took  in  life,  he  did  not  believe  in  sudden  in- 
spirations. He  said,  therefore,  with  an  ironical  smile, 
which  was  to  show  that  he  was  not  so  easily  taken  in, — 

"  Very  well,  sir.  This  circumstance  shall  be  men- 
tioned, as  well  as  the  others,  at  the  trial." 

Very  differently  thought  the  commonwealth  attorney 
and  the  clerk.  If  the  magistrate  had  been  too  much 
engaged  in  his  dictation  to  notice  any  thing,  they  had 
been  perfectly  able  to  notice  the  great  excitement  under 
which  the  accused  had  naturally  labored.  Perfectly 
amazed  at  first,  and  thinking,  for  a  moment,  that  the 
whole  was  a  joke,  he  had  next  become  furiously  angry ; 
then  fear  and  utter  dejection  had  followled  one  an- 
other. But  in  precise  proportion  as  the  charges  had 
accumulated,  and  the  evidence  had  become  overwhelm- 
ing, he  had,  so  far  from  becoming  demoralized,  seemed 
to  recover  his  assurance. 

"  There  is  something  curious  about  it,"  growled 
Mechinet.  M.  Daubigeon,  on  the  other  hand,  said 
nothing;  but  when  M.  de  Boiscoran  came  out  of  his 
dressing-room,  fully  dressed  and  ready,  he  said, — 

"  One  more  question,  sir." 

The  poor  man  bowed.  He  was  pale,  but  calm  and 
self-possessed. 

"  I  am  ready  to  reply,"  he  said. 

"  I'll  be  brief.  You  seemed  to  be  surprised  and  in- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       93 

dignant  at  any  one's  daring  to  accuse  you.  That  was 
weakness.  Justice  is  but  the  work  of  man,  and  must 
needs  judge  by  appearances.  If  you  reflect,  you  will 
see  that  the  appearances  are  all  against  you." 

"  I  see  it  but  too  clearly." 

"  If  you  were  on  a  jury,  you  would  not  hesitate  to 
pronounce  a  man  guilty  upon  such  evidence." 

"  No,  sir,  no !  " 

The  commonwealth  attorney  bounded  from  his  chair. 
He  said, — 

"  You  are  not  sincere !  " 

M.  de  Boiscoran  sadly  shook  his  head,  and  replied, — 

"  I  speak  to  you  without  the  slightest  hope  of  con- 
vincing you,  but  in  all  sincerity.  No,  I  should  not 
condemn  a  man,  as  you  say,  if  he  asserted  his  inno- 
cence, and  if  I  did  not  see  any  reason  for  his  crime. 
For,  after  all,  unless  a  man  is  mad,  he  does  not  com- 
mit a  crime  for  nothing.  Now  I  ask  you,  how  could 
I,  upon  whom  fortune  has  always  smiled;  I  who  am 
on  the  eve  of  marrying  one  whom  I  love  passionately, 
— how  could  I  have  set  Valpinson  on  fire,  and  tried  to 
murder  Count  Claudieuse  ?  " 

M.  Galpin  had  scarcely  been  able  to  disguise  his 
impatience,  when  he  saw  the  attorney  take  part  in  the 
affair.  Seizing,  therefore,  the  opportunity  to  interfere, 
he  said, — 

"  Your  reason,  sir,  was  hatred.  You  hated  the  count 
and  the  countess  mortally.  Do  not  protest :  it  is  of  no 
use.  Everybody  knows  it;  and  you  yourself  have  told 
me  so." 

M.  de  Boiscoran  looked  as  if  he  were  growing  still 
more  pale,  and  then  replied  in  a  tone  of  crushing  dis- 
dain,— 

"  Even  if  that  were  so,  I  do  not  see  what  right  you 


94      WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

have  to  abuse  the  confidence  of  a  friend,  after  having 
declared,  upon  your  arrival  here,  that  all  friendship  be- 
tween us  had  ceased.  But  that  is  not  so.  I  never  told 
you  any  such  thing.  As  my  feelings  have  never 
changed,  I  can  repeat  literally  what  I  have  said.  I 
have  told  you  that  the  count  was  a  troublesome  neigh- 
bor, a  stickler  for  his  rights,  and  almost  absurdly  at- 
tached to  his  preserves.  I  have  also  told  you,  that,  if 
he  declared  my  public  opinions  to  be  abominable,  I 
looked  upon  his  as  ridiculous  and  dangerous.  As  for 
the  countess,  I  have  simply  said,  half  in  jest,  that  so 
perfect  a  person  was  not  to  my  taste ;  and  that  I  should 
be  very  unhappy  if  my  wife  were  a  Madonna,  who 
hardly  ever  deigned  to  put  her  foot  upon  the  ground." 

"  And  that  was  the  only  reason  why  you  once  pointed 
your  gun  at  Count  Claudieuse?  A  little  more  blood 
rushing  to  your  head  would  have  made  you  a  mur- 
derer on  that  day." 

A  terrible  spasm  betrayed  M.  de  Boiscoran's  fury; 
but  he  checked  himself,  and  said, — 

"  My  passion  was  less  fiery  than  it  may  have  looked. 
I  have  the  most  profound  respect  for  the  count's  char- 
acter. It  is  an  additional  grief  to  me  that  he  should 
have  accused  me." 

"  But  he  has  not  accused  you !  "  broke  in  M.  Dau- 
bigeon.  "  On  the  contrary,  he  was  the  first  and  the 
most  eager  to  defend  you." 

And,  in  spite  of  the  signs  which  M.  Galpin  made,  he 
continued, — 

"  Unfortunately  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
force  of  the  evidence  against  you.  If  you  persist  in 
keeping  silence,  you  must  look  for  a  criminal  trial  for 
the  galleys.  If  you  are  innocent,  why  not  explain  the 
matter  ?  What  do  you  wait  for  ?  What  do  you  hope  ?  " 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       95 

"  Nothing." 

Mechinet  had,  in  the  meantime,  completed  the  offi- 
cial report. 

"  We  must  go,"  said  M.  Galpin. 

"  Am  I  at  liberty,"  asked  M.  de  Boiscoran,  "  to 
write  a  few  lines  to  my  father  and  my  mother?  They 
are  old:  such  an  event  may  kill  them." 

"  Impossible !  "  said  the  magistrate. 

Then,  turning  to  Anthony,  he  said, — 

"  I  am  going  to  put  the  seals  on  this  room,  and  I 
shall  leave  it  in  the  meanwhile  in  your  keeping.  You 
know  your  duty,  and  the  penalties  to  which  you  would 
be  subject,  if,  at  the  proper  time,  every  thing  is  not 
found  in  the  same  condition  in  which  it  is  left  now. 
Now,  how  shall  we  get  back  to  Sauveterre  ?  " 

After  mature  deliberation  it  was  decided  that  M. 
de  Boiscoran  should  go  in  one  of  his  own  carriages, 
accompanied  by  one  of  the  gendarmes.  M.  Daubigeon, 
the  magistrate,  and  the  clerk  would  return  in  the  may- 
or's carriage,  driven  by  Ribot,  who  was  furious  at 
being  kept  under  surveillance. 

"  Let  us  be  off,"  said  the  magistrate,  when  the  last 
formalities  had  been  fulfilled. 

M.  de  Boiscoran  came  down  slowly.  He  knew  the 
court  was  full  of  furious  peasants ;  and  he  expected  to 
be  received  with  hootings.  It  was  not  so.  The  gen- 
darme whom  the  attorney  had  sent  down  had  done  his 
duty  so  well,  that  not  a  cry  was  heard.  But  when  he 
had  taken  his  seat  in  the  carriage,  and  the  horse  went 
off  at  a  trot,  fierce  curses  arose,  and  a  shower  of  stones 
fell,  one  of  which  wounded  a  gendarme. 

"  Upon  my  word,  you  bring  ill  luck,  prisoner,"  said 
the  man,  a  friend  of  the  other  gendarme  who  had  been 
so  much  iniured  at  the  fire. 


96       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

M.  de  Boiscoran  made  no  reply.  He  sank  back  into 
the  corner,  and  seemed  to  fall  into  a  kind  of  stupor, 
from  which  he  did  not  rouse  himself  till  the  carriage 
drove  into  the  yard  of  the  prison  at  Sauveterre.  On 
the  threshold  stood  Master  Blangin,  the  jailer,  smiling 
with  delight  at  the  idea  of  receiving  so  distinguished 
a  prisoner. 

"  I  am  going  to  give  you  my  best  room,"  he  said ; 
"  but  first  I  have  to  give  a  receipt  to  the  gendarme, 
and  to  enter  you  in  my  book."  Thereupon  he  took 
down  his  huge,  greasy  register,  and  wrote  the  name  of 
Jacques  de  Boiscoran  beneath  that  of  Trumence  Che- 
minot,  a  vagabond  who  had  just  been  arrested  for 
having  broken  into  a  garden. 

It  was  all  over.  Jacques  de  Boiscoran  was  a  pris- 
oner, to  be  kept  in  close  confinement. 


SECOND  PART 
THE   BOISCORAN   TRIAL 

I. 

THE  Paris  house  of  the  Boiscoran  family,  No.  216 
University  Street,  is  a  house  of  modest  appearance. 
The  yard  in  front  is  small;  and  the  few  square  yards 
of  damp  soil  in  the  rear  hardly  deserve  the  name  of  a 
garden.  But  appearances  are  deceptive.  The  inside 
is  marvellously  comfortable;  careful  and  painstaking 
hands  have  made  every  provision  for  ease;  and  the 
rooms  display  that  solid  splendor  for  which  our  age 
has  lost  the  taste.  The  vestibule  contains  a  superb 
mosaic,  brought  home  from  Venice,  in  1798,  by  one  of 
the  Boiscorans,  who  had  degenerated,  and  followed 
the  fortunes  of  Napoleon.  The  balusters  of  the  great 
staircase  are  a  masterpiece  of  iron  work;  and  the 
wainscoting  in  the  dining-room  has  no  rival  in  Paris. 

The  room  in  which  the  marchioness  receives  her 
political  guests  is  fully  equal  to  these  splendors.  Not 
a  piece  of  furniture  but  has  its  history.  The  carvings 
on  the  mantelpiece,  if  sold  at  auction,  would  bring 
their  weight  in  gold.  The  chandelier  is  a  marvel ;  and 
each  one  of  the  eight  paintings  which  adorn  the  walls 
is  a  masterpiece  by  some  great  artist. 

All  this,  however,  is  a  mere  nothing  in  comparison 
with  the  marquis's  cabinet  of  curiosities.  It  fills  the 
whole  depth,  and  half  the  width,  of  the  upper  story;  is 

97 


98       WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

lighted  from  above  like  a  huge  atelier;  and  would  fill 
the  heart  of  an  artist  with  delight.  Immense  glass 
cases,  which  stand  all  around  against  the  walls,  hold 
the  treasures  of  the  marquis, — priceless  collections  of 
enamels,  ivories,  bronzes,  unique  manuscripts,  match- 
less porcelains,  and,  above  all,  his  faiences,  his  dear 
faiences,  the  pride  and  the  torment  of  his  old  age. 

The  owner  was  well  worthy  of  such  a  setting. 

Though  sixty-one  years  old  at  that  time,  the  mar- 
quis was  as  straight  as  ever,  and  most  aristocratically 
lean.  He  had  a  perfectly  magnificent  nose,  which  ab- 
sorbed immense  quantities  of  snuff;  his  mouth  was 
large,  but  well  furnished ;  and  his  brilliant  eyes  shone 
with  that  restless  cunning  which  betrayed  the  amateur, 
who  has  continually  to  deal  with  sharp  and  eager  deal- 
ers in  curiosities  and  second-hand  articles  of  vertu. 

In  the  year  1845  he  had  reached  the  summit  of  his 
renown  by  a  great  speech  on  the  question  of  public 
meetings;  but  at  that  hour  his  watch  seemed  to  have 
stopped.  All  his  ideas  were  those  of  an  Orleanist.  His 
appearance,  his  costume,  his  high  cravat,  his  whiskers, 
and  the  way  he  brushed  his  hair,  all  betrayed  the  ad- 
mirer and  friend  of  the  citizen  king.  But  for  all  that, 
he  did  not  trouble  himself  about  politics;  in  fact,  he 
troubled  himself  about  nothing  at  all.  With  the  only 
condition  that  his  inoffensive  passion  should  be  re- 
spected, the  marchioness  was  allowed  to  rule  supreme 
in  the  house,  administering  her  large  fortune,  ruling 
her  only  son,  and  deciding  all  questions  without  the 
right  of  appeal.  It  was  perfectly  useless  to  ask  the 
marquis  any  thing:  his  answer  was  invariably, — 

"  Ask  my  wife/' 

The  good  man  had,  the  evening  before,  purchased, 
a  little  at  haphazard,  a  large  lot  of  faiences,  repre- 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE       99 

senting  scenes  of  the  Revolution;  and  at  about  three 
o'clock,  he  was  busy,  magnifying-glass  in  hand,  exam- 
ining his  dishes  and  plates,  when  the  door  was  sud- 
denly opened. 

The  marchioness  came  in,  holding  a  blue  paper  in  her 
hand.  Six  or  eight  years  younger  than  her  husband, 
she  was  the  very  companion  for  such  an  idle,  indolent 
man.  In  her  walk,  in  her  manner,  and  in  her  voice, 
she  showed  at  once  the  woman  who  stands  at  the 
wheel,  and  means  to  be  obeyed/  Her  once  celebrated 
beauty  had  left  remarkable  traces  enough  to  justify 
her  pretensions.  She  denied  having  any  claims  to  being 
considered  handsome,  since  it  was  impossible  to  deny 
or  conceal  the  ravages  of  time,  and  hence  by  far  her 
best  policy  to  accept  old  age  with  good  grace.  Still, 
if  the  marchioness  did  not  grow  younger,  she  pretended 
to  be  older  than  she  really  was.  She  had  her  gray  hair 
puffed  out  with  considerable  affectation,  so  as  to  con- 
trast all  the  more  forcibly  with  her  ruddy,  blooming 
cheeks,  which  a  girl  might  have  envied ;  and  she  often 
thought  of  powdering  her  hair. 

She  was  so  painfully  excited,  and  almost  undone, 
when  she  came  into  her  husband's  cabinet,  that  even 
he,  who  for  many  a  year  had  made  it  a  rule  of  his  life 
to  show  no  emotion,  was  seriously  troubled.  Laying 
aside  the  dish  which  he  was  examining,  he  said  with 
an  anxious  voice, — 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?    What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  A  terrible  misfortune." 

"  Is  Jacques  dead  ?  "  cried  the  old  collector. 

The  marchioness  shook  her  head. 

"  No !     It  is  something  worse,  perhaps  " — 

The  old  man,  who  had  risen  at  the  sight  of  his  wife, 
sank  slowly  back  into  his  chair. 


ioo     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Tell  me,"  he  stammered  out, — "  tell  me.  I  have 
courage." 

She  handed  him  the  blue  paper  which  she  had 
brought  in,  and  said  slowly, — 

"  Here.  A  telegram  which  I  have  just  received 
from  old  Anthony,  our  son's  valet." 

With  trembling  hands  the  old  marquis  unfolded  the 
paper,  and  read, — 

"  Terrible  misfortune !  Master  Jacques  accused  of 
having  set  the  chateau  at  Valpinson  on  fire,  and  mur- 
dered Count  Claudieuse.  Terrible  evidence  against 
him.  When  examined,  hardly  any  defence.  Just  ar- 
rested and  carried  to  jail.  In  despair.  What  must  I 
do?" 

The  marchioness  had  feared  lest  the  marquis  should 
have  been  crushed  by  this  despatch,  which  in  its  la- 
conic terms  betrayed  Anthony's  abject  terror.  But  it 
was  not  so.  He  put  it  back  on  the  table  in  the  calm- 
est manner,  and  said,  shrugging  his  shoulders, — 

"  It  is  absurd !  " 

His  wife  did  not  understand  it.    She  began  again, — 

"  You  have  not  read  it  carefully,  my  friend  "- 

"  I  understand,"  he  broke  in,  "  that  our  son  is  ac- 
cused of  a  crime  which  he  has  not  and  can  not  have 
committed.  You  surely  do  not  doubt  his  innocence? 
What  a  mother  you  would  be !  On  my  part,  I  assure 
you  I  am  perfectly  tranquil.  Jacques  an  incendiary! 
Jacques  a  murderer !  That  is  nonsense !  " 

"  Ah !  you  did  not  read  the  telegram,"  exclaimed  the 
marchioness. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  You  did  not  see  that  there  was  evidence  against 
him." 

"  If  there  had  been  none,  he  could  not  have  been  ar- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     101 

rested.  Of  course,  the  thing  is  disagreeable :  it  is  pain- 
ful." 

"  But  he  did  not  defend  himself." 

"  Upon  my  word !  Do  you  think  that  if  to-morrow 
somebody  accused  me  of  having  robbed  the  till  of  some 
shopkeeper,  I  would  take  the  trouble  to  defend  my- 
self?" 

"  But  do  you  not  see  that  Anthony  evidently  thinks 
our  son  is  guilty  ?  " 

"  Anthony  is  an  old  fool !  "  declared  the  marquis. 

Then  pulling  out  his  snuffbox,  and  stuffing  his  nose 
full  of  snuff,  he  said, — 

"  Besides,  let  us  consider.  Did  you  not  tell  me  that 
Jacques  is  in  love  with  that  little  Dionysia  Chandore  ?  " 

"  Desperately.    Like  a  real  child." 

"And  she?" 

"  She  adores  Jacques." 

"  Well.  And  did  you  not  also  tell  me  that  the  wed- 
ding-day was  fixed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  three  days  ago." 

"  Has  Jacques  written  to  you  about  the  matter  ?  " 

"  An  excellent  letter." 

"  In  which  he  tells  you  he  is  coming  up  ?  " 

"  Yes :  he  wanted  to  purchase  his  wedding-presents 
himself."  With  a  gesture  of  magnificent  indifference 
the  marquis  tapped  the  top  of  his  snuffbox,  and  said, — 

"  And  you  think  a  boy  like  our  Jacques,  a  Boiscoran, 
in  love,  and  beloved,  who  is  about  to  be  married,  and 
has  his.  head  full  of  wedding-presents,  could  have 
committed  such  a  horrible  crime  ?  Such  things  are  not 
worth  discussing,  and,  with  your  leave,  I  shall  return 
to  my  occupation." 

If  doubt  is  contagious,  confidence  is  still  more  so. 


102     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

Gradually  the  marchioness  felt  reassured  by  the  per- 
fect assurance  of  her  husband.  The  blood  came  back 
to  her  cheeks ;  and  smiles  reappeared  on  pale  lips.  She 
said  in  a  stronger  voice, — 

"  In  fact,  I  may  have  been  too  easily  frightened." 

The  marquis  assented  by  a  gesture. 

"  Yes,  much  too  easily,  my  dear.  And,  between  us, 
I  would  not  say  much  about  it.  How  could  the  offi- 
cers help  accusing  our  Jacques  if  his  own  mother  sus- 
pects him  ?  " 

The  marchioness  had  taken  up  the  telegram,  and 
was  reading  it  over  once  more. 

"And  yet,"  she  said,  answering  her  own  objections, 
"  who  in  my  place  would  not  have  been  frightened  ? 
This  name  of  Claudieuse  especially  " — 

"  Why  ?  It  is  the  name  of  an  excellent  and  most 
honorable  gentleman, — the  best  man  in  the  world,  in 
spite  of  his  sea-dog  manners." 

"  Jacques  hates  him,  my  dear." 

"Jacques  does  not  mind  him  any  more  than  that." 

"  They  have  repeatedly  quarrelled." 

"  Of  course.  Claudieuse  is  a  furious  legitimist ;  and 
as  such  he  always  talks  with  the  utmost  contempt  of 
all  of  us  who  have  been  attached  to  the  Orleans 
family." 

"  Jacques  has  been  at  law  with  him." 

"  And  he  has  done  right,  only  he  ought  to  have  car- 
ried the  matter  through.  Claudieuse  has  claims  on  the 
Magpie,  which  divides  our  lands, — absurd  claims.  He 
wants  at  all  seasons,  and  according  as  he  may  desire, 
to  direct  the  waters  of  the  little  stream  into  his  own 
channels,  and  thus  drown  the  meadows  at  Boiscoran, 
which  are  lower  than  his  own.  Even  my  brother,  who 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     103 

was  an  angel  in  patience  and  gentleness,  had  his  trou- 
bles with  this  tyrant." 

But  the  marchioness  was  not  convinced  yet. 

"  There  was  another  trouble,"  she  said. 

"What?" 

"  Ah !  I  should  like  to  know  myself." 

"  Has  Jacques  hinted  at  any  thing?  " 

"  No.  I  only  know  this.  Last  year,  at  the  Duchess 
of  Champdoce's,  I  met  by  chance  the  Countess  Claudi- 
euse  and  her  children.  The  young  woman  is  perfectly 
charming;  and,  as  we  were  going  to  give  a  ball  the 
week  after,  it  occurred  to  me  to  invite  her  at  once. 
She  refused,  and  did  so  in  such  an  icy,  formal  man- 
ner, that  I  did  not  insist." 

"  She  probably  does  not  like  dancing,"  growled  the 
marquis. 

"  That  same  evening  I  mentioned  the  matter  to 
Jacques.  He  seemed  to  be  very  angry,  and  told  me, 
in  a  manner  which  was  hardly  compatible  with  respect, 
that  I  had  been  very  wrong,  and  that  he  had  his  rea- 
sons for  not  desiring  to  come  in  contact  with  those 
people." 

The  marquis  felt  so  secure,  that  he  only  listened  with 
partial  attention,  looking  all  the  time  aside  at  his  pre- 
cious faiences. 

"  Well,"  he  said  at  last,  "  Jacques  detests  the  Claudi- 
euses.  What  does  that  prove?  God  be  thanked,  we 
do  not  murder  all  the  people  we  detest !  " 

His  wife  did  not  insist  any  longer.  She  only 
asked, — 

"  Well,  what  must  we  do  ?  " 

She  was  so  little  in  the  habit  of  consulting  her  hus- 
band, that  he  was  quite  surprised. 


io4     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  The  first  thing  is  to  get  Jacques  out  of  jail.  We 
must  see — we  ought  to  ask  for  advice." 

At  this  moment  a  light  knock  was  heard  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in !  "  he  said. 

A  servant  came  in,  bringing  a  large  envelope, 
marked  "  Telegraphic  Despatch.  Private." 

"  Upon  my  word !  "  cried  the  marquis.  "  I  thought 
so.  Now  we  shall  be  all  right  again." 

The  servant  had  left  the  room.  He  tore  open  the  en- 
velope ;  but  at  the  first  glance  at  the  contents  the  smile 
vanished,  he  turned  pale,  and  just  said, — 

"  Great  God !  " 

Quick  as  lightning,  the  marchioness  seized  the  fatal 
paper.  She  read  at  a  glance, — 

"  Come  quick.  Jacques  in  prison ;  close  confine- 
ment; accused  of  horrible  crime.  The  whole  town 
says  he  is  guilty,  and  that  he  has  confessed.  Infamous 
calumny !  His  judge  is  his  former  friend,  Galpin,  who 
was  to  marry  his  cousin  Lavarande.  Know  nothing 
except  that  Jacques  is  innocent.  Abominable  intrigue ! 
Grandpa  Chandore  and  I  will  do  what  can  be  done. 
Your  help  indispensable.  Come,  come! 

DIONYSIA  CHANDORE." 

"  Ah,  my  son  is  lost !  "  cried  the  marchioness  with 
tears  in  her  eyes.  The  marquis,  however,  had  recov- 
ered already  from  the  shock. 

"  And  I — I  say  more  than  ever,  with  Dionysia,  who 
is  a  brave  girl,  Jacques  is  innocent.  But  I  see  he  is  in 
danger.  A  criminal  prosecution  is  always  an  ugly  af- 
fair. A  man  in  close  confinement  may  be  made  to  say 
any  thing." 

"  We  must  do  something,"  said  the  mother,  nearly 
mad  with  grief. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     105 

"  Yes,  and  without  losing  a  minute.  We  have 
friends:  let  us  see  who  among  them  can  help  us." 

"  I  might  write  to  M.  Margeril." 

The  marquis,  who  had  turned  quite  pale,  became 
livid. 

"  What !  "  he  cried.  "  You  dare  utter  that  name  in 
my  presence  ?  " 

"  He  is  all  powerful ;  and  my  son  is  in  danger." 

The  marquis  stopped  her  with  a  threatening  gesture, 
and  cried  with  an  accent  of  bitter  hatred, — 

"  I  would  a  thousand  times  rather  my  son  should  die 
innocent  on  the  scaffold  than  owe  his  safety  to  that 
man!" 

His  wife  seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of  fainting. 

"  Great  God !  And  yet  you  know  very  well  that  I 
was  only  a  little  indiscreet." 

"  No  more !  "  said  the  marquis  harshly. 

Then,  recovering  his  self-control  by  a  powerful  ef- 
fort, he  went  on, — 

"  Before  we  attempt  any  thing,  we  must  know  how 
the  matter  stands.  You  will  leave  for  Sauveterre  this 
evening." 

"Alone?" 

"  No.  I  will  find  some  able  lawyer, — a  reliable  jurist, 
who  is  not  a  politician, — if  such  a  one  can  be  found 
nowadays.  He  will  tell  you  what  to  do,  and  will  write 
to  me,  so  that  I  can  do  here  whatever  may  be  best. 
Dionysia  is  right.  Jacques  must  be  the  victim  of  some 
abominable  intrigue.  Nevertheless,  we  shall  save  him ; 
but  we  must  keep  cool,  perfectly  cool." 

And  as  he  said  this  he  rang  the  bell  so  violently, 
that  a  number  of  servants  came  rushing  in  at  once. 

"  Quick,"  he  said ;  "  send  for  my  lawyer,  M.  Chape- 
lain.  Take  a  carriage." 


io6     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF"  HIS    LIFE 

The  servant  who  took  the  order  was  so  expeditious, 
that,  in  less  than  twenty  minutes,  M.  Chapelain  ar- 
rived. 

"  Ah !  we  want  all  your  experience,  my  friend,"  said 
the  marquis  to  him.  "  Look  here.  Read  these  tele- 
grams." 

Fortunately,  the  lawyer  had  such  control  over  him- 
self, that  he  did  not  betray  what  he  felt;  for  he  be- 
lieved Jacques  guilty,  knowing  as  he  did  how  reluctant 
courts  generally  are  to  order  the  arrest  of  a  suspected 
person. 

"  I  know  the  man  for  the  marchioness,"  he  said  at 
last. 

"Ah!" 

"  A  young  man  whose  modesty  alone  has  kept  him 
from  distinguishing  himself  so  far,  although  I  know 
he  is  one  of  the  best  jurists  at  the  bar,  and  an  admirable 
speaker." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"  Manuel  Folgat.    I  shall  send  him  to  you  at  once." 

Two  hours  later,  M.  Chapelain's  protege  appeared  at 
the  house  of  the  Boiscorans.  He  was  a  man  of  thirty- 
one  or  thirty-two,  with  large,  wide-open  eyes,  whose 
whole  appearance  was  breathing  intelligence  and 
energy. 

The  marquis  was  pleased  with  him,  and  after  having 
told  him  all  he  knew  about  Jacques's  position,  en- 
deavored to  inform  him  as  to  the  people  down  at 
Sauveterre, — who  would  be  likely  to  be  friends,  and 
who  enemies,  recommending  to  him,  above  all,  to  trust 
M.  Seneschal,  an  old  friend  of  the  family,  and  a  most 
influential  man  in  that  community. 

"  Whatever  is  humanly  possible  shall  be  done,  sir," 
said  the  lawyer. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     107 

That  same  evening,  at  fifteen  minutes  past  eight, 
the  Marchioness  of  Boiscoran  and  Manuel  Folgat  took 
their  seats  in  the  train  for  Orleans. 


II. 

THE  railway  which  connects  Sauveterre  with  the 
Orleans  line  enjoys  a  certain  celebrity  on  account  of  a 
series  of  utterly  useless  curves,  which  defy  all  common 
sense,  and  which  would  undoubtedly  be  the  source  of 
countless  accidents,  if  the  trains  were  not  prohibited 
from  going  faster  than  eight  or  ten  miles  an  hour. 

The  depot  has  been  built — no  doubt  for  the  greater 
convenience  of  travellers — at  a  distance  of  two  miles 
from  town,  on  a  place  where  formerly  the  first  banker 
of  Sauveterre  had  his  beautiful  gardens.  The  pretty 
road  which  leads  to  it  is  lined  on  both  sides  with  inns 
and  taverns,  on  market-days  full  of  peasants,  who  try 
to  rob  each  other,  glass  in  hand,  and  lips  overflowing 
with  protestations  of  honesty.  On  ordinary  days  even, 
the  road  is  quite  lively ;  for  the  walk  to  the  railway  has 
become  a  favorite  promenade.  People  go  out  to  see 
the  trains  start  or  come  in,  to  examine  the  new  ar- 
rivals, or  to  exchange  confidences  as  to  the  reasons 
why  Mr.  or  Mrs.  So-and-so  have  made  up  their  mind 
to  travel. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  the  train 
which  brought  the  marchioness  and  Manuel  Folgat 
at  last  reached  Sauveterre.  The  former  was  overcome 
by  fatigue  and  anxiety,  having  spent  the  whole  night 
in  discussing  the  chances  for  her  son's  safety,  and  was 
all  the  more  exhausted  as  the  lawyer  had  taken  care 
not  to  encourage  her  hopes. 


io8     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

For  he  also  shared,  in  secret  at  least,  M.  Chapelain's 
doubts.  He,  also,  had  said  to  himself,  that  a  man  like 
M.  de  Boiscoran  is  not  apt  to  be  arrested,  unless  there 
are  strong  reasons,  and  almost  overwhelming  proofs 
of  his  guilt  in  the  hands  of  the  authorities. 

The  train  was  slackening  speed. 

"  If  only  Dionysia  and  her  father,"  sighed  the  mar- 
chioness, "  have  thought  of  sending  a  carriage  to  meet 
us." 

"  Why  so  ?  "  asked  Manuel  Folgat. 

"  Because  I  do  not  want  all  the  world  to  see  my 
grief  and  my  tears." 

The  young  lawyer  shook  his  head,  and  said, — 

"  You  will  certainly  not  do  that,  madam,  if  you  are 
disposed  to  follow  my  advice." 

She  looked  at  him  quite  amazed ;  but  he  insisted. 

"  I  mean  you  must  not  look  as  if  you  wished  not  to 
be  seen:  that  would  be  a  great,  almost  irreparable 
mistake.  What  would  they  think  if  they  saw  you  in 
tears  and  great  distress?  They  would  say  you  were 
sure  of  your  son's  guilt ;  and  the  few  who  may  still 
doubt  will  doubt  no  longer.  You  must  control  public 
opinion  from  the  beginning;  for  it  is  absolute  in  tfiese 
small  communities,  where  everybody  is  under  some- 
body else's  immediate  influence.  Public  opinion  is  all 
powerful;  and  say  what  you  will,  it  controls  even  the 
jurymen  in  their  deliberations." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  marchioness :  "  that  is  but 
too  true." 

"  Therefore,  madam,  you  must  summon  all  your 
energy,  conceal  your  maternal  anxiety  in  your  inner- 
most heart,  dry  your  tears,  and  show  nothing  but  the 
most  perfect  confidence.  Let  everybody  say,  as  he 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     109 

sees  you,  '  No  mother  could  look  so  who  thinks  her 
son  guilty.'  " 

The  marchioness  straightened  herself,  and  said, — 

"  You  are  right,  sir ;  and  I  thank  you.  I  must  try 
to  impress  public  opinion  as  you  say ;  and,  so  far  from 
wishing  to  find  the  station  deserted,  I  shall  be  delighted 
to  see  it  full  of  people.  I  will  show  you  what  a  woman 
can  do  who  thinks  of  her  son's  life." 

The  Marchioness  of  Boiscoran  was  a  woman  of 
rare  power. 

Drawing  her  comb  from  her  dressing-case,  she  re- 
paired the  disorder  of  her  coiffure;  with  a  few  skilful 
strokes  she  smoothed  her  dress;  her  features,  by  a 
supreme  effort  of  will,  resumed  their  usual  serenity; 
she  forced  her  lips  to  smile  without  betraying  the  effort 
it  cost  her;  and  then  she  said  in  a  clear,  firm  voice, — 

"  Look  at  me,  sir.    Can  I  show  myself  now  ?  " 

The  train  stopped  at  the  station.  Manuel  Folgat 
jumped  out  lightly;  and,  offering  the  marchioness  his 
hand  to  assist  her,  he  said, — 

"  You  will  be  pleased  with  yourself,  madam.  Your 
courage  will  not  be  useless.  All  Sauveterre  seems  to 
be  here." 

This  was  more  than  half  true.  Ever  since  the  night 
before,  a  report  had  been  current, — no  one  knew  how 
it  had  started, — that  the  "  murderer's  mother,"  as  they 
charitably  called  her,  would  arrive  by  the  nine  o'clock 
train;  and  everybody  had  determined  to  happen  to  be 
at  the  station  at  that  hour.  In  a  place  where  gossip 
lives  for  three  days  upon  the  last  new  dress  from  Paris, 
such  an  opportunity  for  a  little  excitement  was  not  to 
be  neglected.  No  one  thought  for  a  moment  of  what 
the  poor  old  lady  would  probably  feel  upon  being  com- 


no     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

pelled  thus  to  face  a  whole  town;  for  at  Sauveterre 
curiosity  has  at  least  the  merit,  that  it  is  not  hypocriti- 
cal. Everybody  is  openly  indiscreet,  and  by  no  means 
ashamed  of  it.  They  place  themselves  right  in  front 
of  you,  and  look  at  you,  and  try  to  find  out  the  secret 
of  your  joy  or  your  grief. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind,  however,  that  public 
opinion  was  running  strongly  against  M.  de  Boiscoran. 
If  there  had  been  nothing  against  him  but  the  fire  at 
Valpinson,  and  the  attempt  upon  Count  Claudieuse, 
that  would  have  been  a  small  matter.  But  the  fire  had 
had  terrible  consequences.  Two  men  had  perished  in 
it;  and  two  others  had  been  so  severely  wounded  as 
to  put  their  lives  in  jeopardy.  Only  the  evening  before, 
a  sad  procession  had  passed  through  the  streets  of 
Sauveterre.  In  a  cart  covered  with  a  cloth,  and  fol- 
lowed by  two  priests,  the  almost  carbonized  remains  of 
Bolton  the  drummer,  and  of  poor  Guillebault,  had  been 
brought  home.  The  whole  city  had  seen  the  widow 
go  to  the  mayor's  office,  holding  in  her  arms  her  young- 
est child,  while  the  four  others  clung  to  her  dress. 

All  these  misfortunes  were  traced  back  to  Jacques, 
who  was  loaded  with  curses;  and  the  people  now 
thought  of  receiving  his  mother,  the  marchioness,  with 
fierce  hootings. 

"  There  she  is,  there  she  is !  "  they  said  in  the  crowd, 
when  she  appeared  in  the  station,  leaning  upon  M.  Fol- 
gat's  arm. 

But  they  did  not  say  another  word,  so  great  was  their 
surprise  at  her  appearance.  Immediately  two  parties 
were  formed.  "  She  puts  a  bold  face  on  it,"  said  some ; 
while  others  declared,  "  She  is  quite  sure  of  her  son's 
innocence." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     in 

At  all  events,  she  had  presence  of  mind  enough  to  see 
what  an  impression  she  produced,  and  how  well  she 
had  done  to  follow  M.  Folgat's  advice.  It  gave  her  ad- 
ditional strength.  As  she  distinguished  in  the  crowd 
some  people  whom  she  knew,  she  went  up  to  them,  and, 
smiling,  said, — 

"  Well,  you  know  what  has  happened  to  us.  It  is 
unheard  of !  Here  is  the  liberty  of  a  man  like  my  son 
at  the  mercy  of  the  first  foolish  notion  that  enters  the 
head  of  a  magistrate.  I  heard  the  news  yesterday  by 
telegram,  and  came  down  at  once  with  this  gentleman, 
a  friend  of  ours,  and  one  of  the  first  lawyers  of  Paris." 

M.  Folgat  looked  embarrassed :  he  would  have  liked 
more  considerate  words.  Still  he  could  not  help  sup- 
porting the  marchioness  in  what  she  had  said. 

"  These  gentlemen  of  the  court,"  he  said  in  measured 
tones,  "  will  perhaps  be  sorry  for  what  they  have  done." 

Fortunately  a  young  man,  whose  whole  livery  con- 
sisted in  a  gold-laced  cap,  came  up  to  them  at  this 
moment. 

"  M.  de  Chandore's  carriage  is  here,"  he  said. 

"  Very  well,"  replied  the  marchioness. 

And  bowing  to  the  good  people  of  Sauveterre,  who 
were  quite  dumfounded  by  her  assurance,  she  said, — 

"  Pardon  me  if  I  leave  you  so  soon ;  but  M.  de  Chan- 
dore  expects  us.  I  shall,  however,  be  happy  to  call 
upon  you  soon,  on  my  son's  arm." 

The  house  of  the  Chandore  family  stands  on  the 
other  side  of  the  New-Market  Place,  at  the  very  top  of 
the  street,  which  is  hardly  more  than  a  line  of  steps, 
which  the  mayor  persistently  calls  upon  the  municipal 
council  to  grade,  and  which  the  latter  as  persistently 
refuse  to  improve.  The  building  is  quite  new,  massive 


ii2     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

but  ugly,  and  has  at  the  side  a  pretentious  little  tower 
with  a  peaked  roof,  which  Dr.  Seignebos  calls  a  per- 
petual menace  of  the  feudal  system. 

It  is  true  the  Chandores  once  upon  a  time  were  great 
feudal  lords,  and  for  a  long  time  exhibited  a  profound 
contempt  for  all  who  could  not  boast  of  noble  ancestors 
and  a  deep  hatred  of  revolutionary  ideas.  But  if  they 
had  ever  been  formidable,  they  had  long  since  ceased 
to  be  so.  Of  the  whole  great  family, — one  of  the  most 
numerous  and  most  powerful  of  the  province, — only 
one  member  survived,  the  Baron  de  Chandore,  and  a 
girl,  his  grand-daughter,  betrothed  to  Jacques  de  Bois- 
coran.  Dionysia  was  an  orphan.  She  was  barely  three 
years  old,  when,  within  five  months,  she  lost  her  father, 
who  fell  in  a  duel,  and  her  mother,  who  had  not  the 
strength  to  survive  the  man  whom  she  had  loved.  This 
was  certainly  for  the  child  a  terrible  misfortune;  but 
she  was  not  left  uncared  for  nor  unloved.  Her  grand- 
father bestowed  all  his  affections  upon  her;  and  the 
two  sisters  of  her  mother,  the  Misses  Lavarande,  then 
already  no  longer  young,  determined  never  to  marry, 
so  as  to  devote  themselves  exclusively  to  their  niece. 
From  that  day  the  two  good  ladies  had  wished  to  live 
in  the  baron's  house ;  but  from  the  beginning  he  had  ut- 
terly refused  to  listen  to  their  propositions,  asserting 
that  he  was  perfectly  able  himself  to  watch  over  the 
child,  and  wanted  to  have  her  all  to  himself.  All  he 
would  grant  was,  that  the  ladies  might  spend  the  day 
with  Dionysia  whenever  they  chose. 

Hence  arose  a  certain  rivalry  between  the  aunts  and 
the  grandfather,  which  led  both  parties  to  most  amaz- 
ing exaggerations.  Each  one  did  what  could  be  done 
to  engage  the  affections  of  the  little  girl ;  each  one  was 
willing  to  pay  any  price  for  the  most  trifling  caress. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS   LIFE     113 

At  five  years  Dionysia  had  every  toy  that  had  ever 
been  invented.  At  ten  she  was  dressed  like  the  first 
lady  of  the  land,  and  had  jewelry  in  abundance. 

The  grandfather,  in  the  meantime,  had  been  meta- 
morphosed from  head  to  foot.  Rough,  rigid,  and  se- 
vere, he  had  suddenly  become  a  "  love  of  a  father." 
The  fierce  look  had  vanished  from  his  eyes,  the  scorn 
from  his  lips ;  and  both  had  given  way  to  soft  glances 
and  smooth  words.  He  was  seen  daily  trotting 
through  the  streets,  and  going  from  shop  to  shop  on 
errands  for  his  grandchild.  He  invited  her  little 
friends,  arranged  picnics  for  her,  helped  her  drive  her 
hoops,  and  if  needs  be,  led  in  a  cotillon. 

If  Dionysia  looked  displeased,  he  trembled.  If  she 
coughed,  he  turned  pale.  Once  she  was  sick:  she  had 
the  measles.  He  staid  up  for  twelve  nights  in  succes- 
sion, and  sent  to  Paris  for  doctors,  who  laughed  in  his 
face. 

And  yet  the  two  old  ladies  found  means  to  exceed 
his  folly. 

If  Dionysia  learned  any  thing  at  all,  it  was  only  be- 
cause she  herself  insisted  upon  it :  otherwise  the  writ- 
ing-master and  the  music-master  would  have  been 
sent  away  at  the  slightest  sign  of  weariness. 

Sauveterre  saw  it,  and  shrugged  its  shoulders. 

"  What  a  wretched  education ! "  the  ladies  said. 
"  Such  weakness  is  absolutely  unheard  of.  They  ren- 
der the  child  a  sorry  service." 

There  was  no  doubt  that  such  almost  incredible 
spoiling,  such  blind  devotion,  and  perpetual  worship, 
came  very  near  making  of  Dionysia  the  most  disagree- 
able little  person  that  ever  lived.  But  fortunately  she 
had  one  of  those  happy  dispositions  which  cannot  be 
spoiled ;  and  besides,  she  was  perhaps  saved  from  the 


ii4     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

danger  by  its  very  excess.     As  she  grew  older  she 
would  say  with  a  laugh, — 

"  Grandpapa  Chandore,  my  aunts  Lavarande,  and  I, 
we  do  just  what  we  choose." 

i  That  was  only  a  joke.  Never  did  a  young  girl  re- 
pay such  sweet  affection  with  rarer  and  nobler  quali- 
ties. 

She  was  thus  leading  a  happy  life,  free  from  all  care, 
and  was  just  seventeen  years  old,  when  the  great  event 
of  her  life  took  place.  M.  de  Chandore  one  morning 
met  Jacques  de  Boiscoran,  whose  uncle  had  been  a 
friend  of  his,  and  invited  him  to  dinner.  Jacques  ac- 
cepted the  invitation,  and  came.  Dionysia  saw  him, 
and  loved  him. 

Now,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  had  a  secret 
unknown  to  Grandpapa  Chandore  and  to  her  aunts ; 
and  for  two  years  the  birds  and  the  flowers  were  the 
only  confidants  of  this  love  of  hers,  which  grew  up  in 
her  heart,  sweet  like  a  dream,  idealized  by  absence,  and 
fed  by  memory. 

For  Jacques's  eyes  remained  blind  for  two  years. 

But  the  day  on  which  they  were  opened  he  felt  that 
his  fate  was  sealed.  Nor  did  he  hesitate  a  moment; 
and  in  less  than  a  month  after  that,  the  Marquis  de 
Boiscoran  came  down  to  Sauveterre,  and  in  all  form 
asked  Dionysia's  hand  for  his  son. 

Ah !  that  was  a  heavy  blow  for  Grandpapa  Chandore. 

He  had,  of  course,  often  thought  of  the  future  mar- 
riage of  his  grandchild ;  he  had  even  at  times  spoken 
of  it,  and  told  her  that  he  was  getting  old,  and  should 
feel  very  much  relieved  when  he  should  have  found  her 
a  good  husband.  But  he  talked  of  it  as  a  distant  thing, 
very  much  as  we  speak  of  dying.  M.  de  Boiscoran 
brought  his  true  feelings  out.  He  shuddered  at  the 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     115 

idea  of  giving-  up  Dionysia,  of  seeing  her  prefer  an- 
other man  to  himself,  and  of  loving  her  children  best 
of  all.  He  was  quite  inclined  to  throw  the  ambassa- 
dor out  of  the  window. 

Still  he  checked  his  feelings,  and  replied  that  he 
could  give  no  reply  till  he  had  consulted  his  grand- 
daughter. 

Poor  grandpapa !  At  the  very  first  words  he  ut- 
tered, she  exclaimed, — 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  happy !    But  I  expected  it." 

M.  de  Chandore  bent  his  head  to  conceal  a  tear 
which  burned  in  his  eyes.  Then  he  said  very  low, — 

"  Then  the  thing  is  settled." 

At  once,  rather  comforted  by  the  joy  that  was 
sparkling  in  his  grandchild's  eyes,  he  began  reproach- 
ing himself  for  his  selfishness,  and  for  being  unhappy, 
when  his  Dionysia  seemed  to  be  so  happy.  Jacques 
had,  of  course,  been  allowed  to  visit  the  house  as  a 
lover;  and  the  very  day  before  the  fire  at  Valpinson, 
after  having  long  and  carefully  counted  the  days  ab- 
solutely required  for  all  the  purchases  of  the  trousseau, 
and  all  the  formalities  of  the  event,  the  wedding-day 
had  been  finally  fixed. 

Thus  Dionysia  was  struck  down  in  the  very  height 
of  her  happiness,  when  she  heard,  at  the  same  time,  of 
the  terrible  charges  brought  against  M.  de  Boiscoran, 
and  of  his  arrest. 

At  first,  thunderstruck,  she  had  lain  nearly  ten  min- 
utes unconscious  in  the  arms  of  her  aunts,  who,  like 
the  grandfather,  were  themselves  utterly  overcome 
with  terror.  But,  as  soon  as  she  came  to,  she  ex- 
claimed,— 

"  Am  I  mad  to  give  way  thus  ?  Is  it  not  evident  that 
he  is  innocent  ?  " 


n6     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

Then  she  had  sent  her  telegram  to  the  marquis, 
knowing  well,  that,  before  taking  any  measures,  it  was 
all  important  to  come  to  an  understanding  with 
Jacques's  family.  Then  she  had  begged  to  be  left 
alone ;  and  she  had  spent  the  night  in  counting  the 
minutes  that  must  pass  till  the  hour  came  when  the 
train  from  Paris  would  bring  her  help. 

At  eight  o'clock  she  had  come  down  to  give  orders 
herself  that  a  carriage  should  be  sent  to  the  station  for 
the  marchioness,  adding  that  they  must  drive  back  as 
fast  as  they  could.  Then  she  had  gone  into  the  sit- 
ting-room to  join  her  grandfather  and  her  aunts.  They 
talked  to  her ;  but  her  thoughts  were  elsewhere. 
'  At  last  a  carriage  was  heard  coming  up  rapidly,  and 
stopping  before  the  house.  She  got  up,  rushed  into  the 
hall,  and  cried, — 

"  Here  is  Jacques's  mother !  " 


III. 

WE  cannot  do  violence  to  our  natural  feelings  with- 
out paying  for  it.  The  marchioness  had  nearly  fainted 
when  she  could  at  last  take  refuge  in  the  carriage :  she 
was  utterly  overcome  by  the  great  effort  she  had  made 
to  present  to  the  curious  people  of  Sauveterre  a  smiling 
face  and  calm  features. 

"  What  a  horrible  comedy !  "  she  murmured,  as  she 
sank  back  on  the  cushions. 

"  Admit,  at  least,  madam,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  that  it 
was  necessary.  You  have  won  over,  perhaps,  a  hun- 
dred persons  to  your  son's  side." 

She  made  no  reply.  Her  tears  stifled  her.  What 
would  she  not  have  given  for  a  few  moments'  solitude, 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     117 

to  give  way  to  all  the  grief  of  her  heart,  to  all  the 
anxiety  of  a  mother!  The  time  till  she  reached  the 
house  seemed  to  her  an  eternity;  and,  although  the 
horse  was  driven  at  a  furious  rate,  she  felt  as  if  they 
were  making  no  progress.  At  last  the  carriage 
stopped. 

The  little  servant  had  jumped  down,  and  opened  the 
door,  saying, — 

"  Here  we  are.  " 

The  marchioness  got  out  with  M.  Folgat's  assist- 
ance; and  her  foot  was  hardly  on  the  ground,  when 
the  house-door  opened,  and  Dionysia  threw  herself 
into  her  arms,  too  deeply  moved  to  speak.  At  last 
she  broke  forth, — 

"  Oh,  my  mother,  my  mother !  what  a  terrible  mis- 
fortune ! " 

In  the  passage,  M.  de  Chandore  was  coming  for- 
ward. He  had  not  been  able  to  follow  his  grand- 
daughter's rapid  steps. 

"  Let  us  go  in,"  he  said  to  the  two  ladies :  "  don't 
stand  there ! " 

For  at  all  the  windows  curious  eyes  were  peeping 
through  the  blinds. 

He  drew  them  into  the  sitting-room.  Poor  M.  Fol- 
gat  was  sorely  embarrassed  what  to  do  with  himself. 
No  one  seemed  to  be  aware  of  his  existence.  He  fol- 
lowed them,  however.  He  entered  the  room,  and 
standing  by  the  door,  sharing  the  general  excitement, 
he  was  watching  by  turns  Dionysia,  M.  de  Chandore, 
and  the  two  spinsters. 

Dionysia  was  then  twenty  years  old.  It  could  not 
be  said  that  she  was  uncommonly  beautiful ;  but  no 
one  could  ever  forget  her  again  who  had  once  seen 
her.  Small  in  form,  she  was  grace  personified;  and 


n8     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

all  her  movements  betrayed  a  rare  and  exquisite  per- 
fection. Her  black  hair  fell  in  marvellous  masses 
over  her  head,  and  contrasted  strangely  with  her  blue 
eyes  and  her  fair  complexion.  Her  skin  was  of  daz- 
zling whiteness.  Every  thing  in  her  features  spoke  of 
angelic  goodness  within,  and  at  the  same  time  of  ex- 
cessive timidity.  And  yet,  from  certain  movements  of 
her  lips  and  her  eyebrows,  one  might  have  suspected 
no  lack  of  energy. 

Grandpapa  Chandore  looked  unusually  tall  by  her 
side.  His  massive  frame  was  imposing.  He  did  not 
show  his  seventy-two  years,  but  was  as  straight  as 
ever,  and  seemed  to  be  able  to  defy  all  the  storms  of  life. 
What  struck  strangers  most,  perhaps,  was  his  dark- 
red  complexion,  which  gave  him  the  appearance  of  an 
Indian  chieftain,  while  his  white  beard  and  hair 
brought  the  crimson  color  still  more  prominently  out. 
In  spite  of  his  herculean  frame  and  his  strange  com- 
plexion, his  face  bore  the  expression  of  almost  child- 
like goodness.  But  the  first  glance  at  his  eyes  proved 
that  the  gentle  smile  on  his  lips  was  not  to  be  taken 
alone.  There  were  flashes  in  his  gray  eyes  which 
made  people  aware  that  a  man  who  should  dare,  for 
instance,  to  offend  Dionysia,  would  have  to  pay  for  it 
pretty  dearly. 

As  to  the  two  aunts,  they  were  as  tall  and  thin  as 
a  couple  of  willow-rods,  pale,  discreet,  ultra-aristo- 
cratic in  their  reserve  and  their  coldness;  but  they 
bore  in  their  faces  an  expression  of  happy  peace  and 
sentimental  tenderness,  such  as  is  often  seen  in  old 
maids  whose  temper  has  not  been  soured  by  celibacy. 
They  dressed  absolutely  alike,  as  they  had  done  now 
for  forty  years,  preferring  neutral  colors  and  modest 
fashions,  such  as  suited  their  simple  taste. 


J 

/ 
WITHItf   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     119 

They  were  crying  bitterly  at  that  moment ;  and  M. 
Folgat  felt  instinctively  that  there  was  no  sacrifice  of 
which  they  were  not  capable  for  their  beloved  niece's 
sake. 

"  Poor  Dionysia !  "  they  whispered. 

The  girl  heard  them,  however;  and,  drawing  her- 
self up,  she  said, — • 

"  But  we  are  behaving  shamefully.  What  would 
Jacques  say,  if  he  could  see  us  from  his  prison !  Why 
should  we  be  so  sad?  Is  he  not  innocent?  " 

Her  eyes  shone  with  unusual  brilliancy :  her  voice 
had  a  ring  which  moved  Manuel  Folgat  deeply. 

"  I  can  at  least,  in  justice  to  myself,"  she  went  on 
saying,  "  assure  you  that  I  have  never  doubted  him 
for  a  moment.  And  how  should  I  ever  have  dared  to 
doubt?  The  very  night  on  which  the  fire  broke  out, 
Jacques  wrote  me  a  letter  of  four  pages,  which  he  sent 
me  by  one  of  his  tenants,  and  which  reached  me  at  nine 
o'clock.  I  showed  it  to  grandpapa.  He  read  it,  and 
then  he  said  I  was  a  thousand  times  right,  because  a 
man  who  had  been  meditating  such  a  crime  could 
never  have  written  that  letter." 

"  I  said  so,  and  I  still  think  so,"  added  M.  de  Chan- 
dore ;  "  and  every  sensible  man  will  think  so  too ; 
but  "— 

His  grand-daughter  did  not  let  him  finish. 

"  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  Jacques  is  the  victim 
of  an  abominable  intrigue;  and  we  must  unravel  it. 
We  have  cried  enough :  now  let  us  act ! " 

Then,  turning  to  the  marchioness,  she  said, — 

"  And  my  dear  mother,  I  sent  for  you,  because  we 
want  you  to  help  us  in  this  great  work." 

"  And  here  I  am,"  replied  the  old  lady,  "  not  less 
certain  of  my  son's  innocence  than  you  are." 


, 


120     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   i^S    LIFE 

Evidently  M.  de  Chandore  had  been  hoping  for 
something  more ;  for  he  interrupted  her,  asking, — 

"  And  the  marquis  ?  " 

"  My  husband  remained  in  Paris." 

The  old  gentleman's  face  assumed  a  curious  expres- 
sion. 

"  Ah,  that  is  just  like  him,"  he  said.  "  Nothing  can 
move  him.  His  only  son  is  wickedly  accused  of  a 
crime,  arrested,  thrown  into  prison.  They  write  to 
him;  they  hope  he  will  come  at  once.  By  no  means. 
Let  his  son  get  out  of  trouble  as  he  can.  He  has  his 
faiences  to  attend  to.  Oh,  if  I  had  a  son !  " 

"  My  husband,"  pleaded  the  marchioness,  "  thinks 
he  can  be  more  useful  to  Jacques  in  Paris  than  here. 
There  will  be  much  to  be  done  there." 

"  Have  we  not  the  railway  ?  " 

"  Moreover,"  she  went  on,  "  he  intrusted  me  to  this 
gentleman."  She  pointed  out  M.  Folgat. 

"  M.  Manuel  Folgat,  who  has  promised  us  the  as- 
sistance of  his  experience,  his  talents,  and  his  devo- 
tion." 

When  thus  formally  introduced,  M.  Folgat  bowed, 
and  said, — 

"  I  am  all  hope.  But  I  think  with  Miss  Chandore, 
that  we  must  go  to  work  without  losing  a  second. 
Before  I  can  decide,  however,  upon  what  is  to  be  done, 
I  must  know  all  the  facts." 

"  Unfortunately  we  know  nothing,"  replied  M.  de 
Chandore, — "  nothing,  except  that  Jacques  is  kept  in 
close  confinement." 

"  Well,  then,  we  must  try  to  find  out.  You  know, 
no  doubt,  all  the  law  officers  of  Sauveterre  ?  " 

"  Very  few.     I  know  the  commonwealth  attorney." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE     121 

"  And  the  magistrate  before  whom  the  matter  has 
been  brought." 

The  older  of  the  two  Misses  Lavarande  rose,  and 
exclaimed, — 

"  That  man,  M.  Galpin,  is  a  monster  of  hypocrisy 
and  ingratitude.  He  called  himself  Jacques's  friend; 
and  Jacques  liked  him  well  enough  to  induce  us,  my 
sister  and  myself,  to  give  our  consent  to  a  marriage 
between  him  and  one  of  our  cousins,  a  Lavarande. 
Poor  child.  When  she  learned  the  sad  truth,  she 
cried,  '  Great  God !  God  be  blessed  that  I  escaped  the 
disgrace  of  becoming  the  wife  of  such  a  man ! ' ' 

"  Yes,"  added  the  other  old  lady,  "  if  all  Sauveterre 
thinks  Jacques  guilty,  let  them  also  say,  '  His  own 
friend  has  become  his  judge/  " 

M.  Folgat  shook  his  head,  and  said, — 

"  I  must  have  more  minute  information.  The 
marquis  mentioned  to  me  a  M.  Seneschal,  mayor  of 
Sauveterre." 

M.  de  Chandore  looked  at  once  for  his  hat,  and 
said, — 

"  To  be  sure !  He  is  a  friend  of  ours ;  and,  if  any 
one  is  well  informed,  he  is.  Let  us  go  to  him.  Come." 

M.  Seneschal  was  indeed  a  friend  of  the  Chandores, 
the  Lavarandes,  and  also  of  the  Boiscorans.  Al- 
though he  was  a  lawyer,  he  had  become  attached1  to 
the  people  whose  confidential  adviser  he  had  been  for 
more  than  twenty  years.  Even  after  having  retired 
from  business,  M.  Seneschal  had  still  retained  the  full 
confidence  of  his  former  clients.  They  never  decided 
on  any  grave  question,  without  consulting  him  first. 
His  successor  did  the  business  for  them ;  but  M.  Sene- 
schal directed  what  was  to  be  done. 


122     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

Nor  was  the  assistance  all  on  one  side.  The  exam- 
ple of  great  people  like  M.  de  Chandore  and  Jacques's 
uncle  had  brought  many  a  peasant  on  business  into 
M.  Seneschal's  office;  and  when  he  was,  at  a  later 
period  of  his  life,  attacked  by  the  fever  of  political 
ambition,  and  offered  to  "  sacrifice  himself  for  his 
country "  by  becoming  mayor  of  Sauveterre,  and  a 
member  of  the  general  council,  their  support  had  been 
of  great  service  to  him. 

Hence  he  was  well-nigh  overcome  when  he  re- 
turned, on  that  fatal  morning,  to  Sauveterre.  He 
looked  so  pale  and  undone,  that  his  wife  was  seriously 
troubled. 

"  Great  God,  Augustus !  What  has  happened  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Something  terrible  has  happened,"  he  replied  in 
so  tragic  a  manner,  that  his  wife  began  to  tremble. 

To  be  sure,  Mrs.  Seneschal  trembled  very  easily. 
She  was  a  woman  of  forty-five  or  fifty  years,  very 
dark,  short,  and  fat,  trying  hard  to  breathe  in  the 
corsets  which  were  specially  made  for  her  by  the 
Misses  Mechinet,  the  clerk's  sisters.  When  she  was 
young,  she  had  been  rather  pretty:  now  she  still  kept 
the  red  cheeks  of  her  younger  days,  a  forest  of  jet 
black  hair,  and  excellent  teeth.  But  she  was  not 
happy.  Her  life  had  been  spent  in  wishing  for  chil- 
dren, and  she  had  none. 

She  consoled  herself,  it  is  true,  by  constantly  refer- 
ring to  all  the  most  delicate  details  on  the  subject,  men- 
tioning not  to  her  intimate  friends  only,  but  to  any 
one  who  would  listen,  her  constant  disappointments, 
the  physicians  she  had  consulted,  the  pilgrimages  she 
had  undertaken,  and  the  quantities  of  fish  she  had 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     123 

eaten,  although  she  abominated  fish.  All  had  been  in 
vain,  and  as  her  hopes  fled  with  her  years,  she  had 
become  resigned,  and  indulged  now  in  a  kind  of  ro- 
mantic sentimentality,  which  she  carefully  kept  alive 
by  reading  novels  and  poems  without  end.  She  had  a 
tear  ready  for  every  unfortunate  being,  and  some 
words  of  comfort  for  every  grief.  Her  charity  was 
well  known.  Never  had  a  poor  woman  with  children 
appealed  to  her  in  vain.  In  spite  of  all  that,  she  was 
not  easily  taken  in.  She  managed  her  household  with 
her  hand  as  well  as  with  her  eye ;  and  no  one  surpassed 
her  in  the  extent  of  her  washings,  or  the  excellence 
of  her  dinners. 

She  was  quite  ready,  therefore,  to  sigh  and  to  sob 
when  her  husband  told  her  what  had  happened  during 
the  night.  When  he  had  ended,  she  said, — 

"  That  poor  Dionysia  is  capable  of  dying  of  it.  In 
your  place,  I  would  go  at  once  to  M.  de  Chandore, 
and  inform  him  in  the  most  cautious  manner  of  what 
has  happened." 

"  I  shall  take  good  care  not  to  do  so,"  replied  M. 
Seneschal ;  "  and  I  tell  you  expressly  not  to  go  there 
yourself." 

For  he  was  by  no  means  a  philosopher;  and,  if  he 
had  been  his  own  master,  he  would  have  taken  the 
first  train,  and  gone  off  a  hundred  miles,  so  as  not  to 
see  the  grief  of  the  Misses  Lavarande  and  Grandpapa 
Chandore.  He  was  exceedingly  fond  of  Dionysia : 
he  had  been  hard  at  work  for  years  to  settle  and  to 
add  to  her  fortune,  as  if  she  had  been  his  own  daugh- 
ter, and  now  to  witness  her  grief !  he  shuddered  at  the 
idea.  Besides,  he  really  did  not  know  what  to  believe, 
and  influenced  by  M.  Galpin's  assurance,  misled  by 


i24     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

public  opinion,  he  had  come  to  ask  himself  if  Jacques 
might  not,  after  all,  have  committed  the  crimes  with 
which  he  was  charged. 

Fortunately  his  duties  were  on  that  day  so  numer- 
ous and  so  troublesome,  that  he  had  no  time  to  think. 
He  had  to  provide  for  the  recovery  and  the  transpor- 
tation of  the  remains  of  the  two  unfortunate  victims 
of  the  fire;  he  had  to  receive  the  mother  of  one,  and 
the  widow  and  children  of  the  other,  and  to  listen  to 
their  complaints,  and  try  to  console  them  by  promis- 
ing the  former  a  small  pension,  and  the  latter  some 
help  in  the  education  of  their  children.  Then  he  had 
to  give  directions  to  have  the  wounded  men  brought 
home ;  and,  after  that,  he  had  gone  out  in  search  of 
a  house  for  Count  Claudieuse  and  his  wife,  which  had 
given  him  much  trouble.  Finally,  a  large  part  of  the 
afternoon  had  been  taken  up  by  an  angry  discussion 
with  Dr.  Seignebos.  The  doctor,  in  the  name  of  out- 
raged society,  as  he  called  it,  and  in  the  name  of  jus- 
tice and  humanity,  demanded  the  immediate  arrest  of 
Cocoleu,  that  wretch  whose  unconscious  statement 
formed  the  basis  of  the  accusation.  He  demanded 
with  a  furious  oath  that  the  epileptic  idiot  should  be 
sent  to  the  hospital,  and  kept  there  so  as  to  be  profes- 
sionally examined  by  experts.  The  mayor  had  for 
some  time  refused  to  grant  the  request,  which  seemed 
to  him  unreasonable;  but  the  doctor  had  talked  so 
loud  and  insisted  so  strongly,  that  at  last  he  had  sent 
two  gendarmes  to  Brechy  with  orders  to  bring  back 
Cocoleu. 

They  had  returned  several  hours  later  with  empty 
hands.  The  idiot  had  disappeared;  and  no  one  in 
the  whole  district  had  been  able  to  give  any  informa- 
tion as  to  his  whereabouts. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     125 

"  And  you  think  that  is  natural  ?  "  exclaimed  Dr. 
Seignebos,  whose  eyes  were  glaring  at  the  mayor  from 
under  his  spectacles.  "  To  me  that  looks  like  an  ab- 
solute proof  that  a  plot  has  been  hatched  to  ruin  M. 
de  Boiscoran." 

"But  can't  you  be  quiet?"  M.  Seneschal  said  an- 
grily. "  Do  you  think  Cocoleu  is  lost  ?  He  will  turn 
up  again." 

The  doctor  had  left  him  without  insisting  any 
longer;  but,  before  going  home,  he  had  dropped  in  at 
his  club,  and  there,  in  the  presence  of  twenty  people, 
he  had  declared  that  he  had  positive  proof  of  a  plot 
formed  against  M.  de  Boiscoran,  whom  the  Monar- 
chists had  never  forgiven  for^  having  left  them ;  and 
that  the  Jesuits  were  certainly  mixed  up  with  the  busi- 
ness. 

This  interference  was  more  injurious  than  useful 
to  Jacques;  and  the  consequences  were  soon  seen. 
That  same  evening,  when  M.  Galpin  crossed  the  New- 
Market  Place,  he  was  wantonly  insulted.  Very  nat- 
urally he  went,  almost  in  a  fury,  to  call  upon  the 
mayor,  to  hold  him  responsible  for  this  insult  offered 
to  Justice  in  his  person,  and  asking  for  energetic  pun- 
ishment. M.  Seneschal  promised  to  take  the  proper 
measures,  and  went  to  the  commonwealth  attorney  to 
act  in  concert  with  him.  There  he  learned  what  had 
happened  at  Boiscoran,  and  the  terrible  result  of  the 
examination. 

So  he  had  come  home,  quite  sorrowful,  distressed 
at  Jacques's  situation,  and  very  much  disturbed  by  the 
political  aspect  which  the  matter  was  beginning  to 
wear.  He  had  spent  a  bad  night,  and  in  the  morning 
had  displayed  such  fearful  temper,  that  his  wife  had 
hardly  dared  to  say  a  word  to  him.  But  even  that 


126     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

was  not  all.  At  two  o'clock  precisely,  the  funeral  of 
Bolton  and  Guillebault  was  to  take  place ;  and  he  had 
promised  Capt.  Parenteau  that  he  would  be  present  in 
his  official  costume,  and  accompanied  by  the  whole 
municipal  council.  He  had  already  given  orders  to 
have  his  uniform  gotten  ready,  when  the  servant  an- 
nounced visitors, — M.  de  Chandore  and  friend. 

"  That  was  all  that  was  wanting !  "  he  exclaimed. 

But,  thinking  it  over,  he  added, — 

"  Well,  it  had  to  come  sooner  or  later.  Show  them 
in!" 

M.  Seneschal  was  too  good  to  be  so  troubled  in  ad- 
vance, and  to  prepare  himself  for  a  heart-rending 
scene.  He  was  amazed  at  the  easy,  almost  cheerful 
manner  with  which  M.  de  Chandore  presented  to  him 
his  companion. 

"  M.  Manuel  Folgat,  my  dear  Seneschal,  a  famous 
lawyer  from  Paris,  who  has  been  kind  enough  to  come 
down  with  the  Marchioness  de  Boiscoran." 

"  I  am  a  stranger  here,  M.  Seneschal,"  said  Folgat : 
"  I  do  not  know  the  manner  of  thinking,  the  customs, 
the  interests,  the  prejudices,  of  this  country;  in  fact, 
I  am  totally  ignorant,  and  I  know  I  would  commit 
many  a  grievous  blunder,  unless  I  could  secure  the 
assistance  of  an  able  and  experienced  counsellor.  M. 
de  Boiscoran  and  M.  de  Chandore  have  both  encour- 
aged me  to  hope  that  I  might  find  such  a  man  in  you." 

"  Certainly,  sir,  and  with  all  my  heart,"  replied  M. 
Seneschal,  bowing  politely,  and  evidently  flatetred  by 
this  deference  on  the  part  of  a  great  Paris  lawyer. 

He  had  offered  his  guests  seats.  He  had  sat  down 
himself,  and  resting  his  elbow  on  the  arm  of  his  big 
office-chair,  he  rubbed  his  clean-shaven  chin  with  his 
hand. 


127 

"  This  is  a  very  serious  matter,  gentlemen,"  he  said 
at  last. 

"  A  criminal  charge  is  always  serious,"  replied  M. 
Folgat. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  cried  M.  de  Chandore,  "  you  are 
not  in  doubt  about  Jacques's  innocence  ?  " 

M.  Seneschal  did  not  say,  No.  He  was  silent, 
thinking  of  the  wise  remarks  made  by  his  wife  the 
evening  before. 

"  How  can  we  know,"  he  began  at  last,  "  what  may 
be  going  on  in  young  brains  of  twenty-five  when  they 
are  set  on  fire  by  the  remembrance  of  certain  insults! 
Wrath  is  a  dangerous  counsellor." 

Grandpapa  Chandore  refused  to  hear  any  more. 

"  What !  do  you  talk  to  me  of  wrath  ?  "  he  broke  in ; 
"  and  what  do  you  see  of  wrath  in  this  Valpinson  af- 
fair? I  see  nothing  in  it,  for  my  part,  but  the  very 
meanest  crime,  long  prepared  and  coolly  carried  out." 

The  mayor  very  seriously  shook  his  head,  and 
said, — • 

"  You  do  not  know  all  that  has  happened." 

"  Sir,"  added  M.  Folgat,  "  it  is  precisely  for  the 
purpose  of  hearing  what  has  happened  that  we  come 
to  you." 

"  Very  well,"  said  M.  Seneschal. 

Thereupon  he  went  to  work  to  describe  the  events 
which  he  had  witnessed  at  Valpinson,  and  those, 
which,  as  he  had  learned  from  the  commonwealth 
attorney,  had  taken  place  at  Boiscoran;  and  this  he 
did  with  all  the  lucidity  of  an  experienced  old  lawyer 
who  is  accustomed  to  unravel  the  mysteries  of  com- 
plicated suits.  He  wound  up  by  saying, — 

"  Finally,  do  you  know  what  Daubigeon  said  to  me, 
whose  evidence  you  will  certainly  know  how  to  appre- 


128     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS   LIFE 

ciate  ?  He  said  in  so  many  words,  '  Galpin  could  not 
but  order  the  arrest  of  M.  de  Boiscoran,  Is  he  guilty? 
I  do  not  know  what  to  think  of  it.  The  accusation  is 
overwhelming.  He  swears  by  all  the  gods  that  he 
is  innocent;  but  he  will  not  tell  how  he  spent  the 
night.' " 

M.  de  Chandore,  in  spite  of  his  vigor,  was  near 
fainting,  although  his  face  remained  as  crimson  as 
ever.  Nothing  on  earth  could  make  him  turn  pale. 

"  Great  God !  "  he  murmured,  "  what  will  Dionysia 
say?" 

Then,  turning  to  M.  Folgat,  he  said  aloud, — 

"  And  yet  Jacques  had  something  in  his  mind  for 
that  evening." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  But  for  that,  he  would  certainly 
have  come  to  the  house,  as  he  has  done  every  evening 
for  a  month.  Besides,  he  said  so  himself  in  the  letter 
which  he  sent  Dionysia  by  one  of  his  tenants,  and 
which  she  mentioned  to  you.  He  wrote,  '  I  curse  from 
the  bottom  of  my  heart  the  business  which  prevents  me 
from  spending  the  evening  with  you ;  but  I  cannot 
possibly  defer  it  any  longer.  To-morrow  ! ' : 

"  You  see,"  said  M.  Seneschal. 

"  The  letter  is  of  such  a  nature,"  continued  the  old 
gentleman,  "  that  I  repeat,  No  man  who  premeditated 
such  a  hideous  crime  could  possibly  have  written  it. 
Nevertheless,  I  confess  to  you,  that,  when  I  heard 
the  fatal  news,  this  very  allusion  to  some  pressing 
business  impressed  me  painfully." 

But  the  young  lawyer  seemed  to  be  far  from  being 
convinced. 

"  It  is  evident,"  he  said,  "  that  M.  de  Boiscoran  will 
on  no  account  let  it  be  known  where  he  went." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     129 

"  He  told  a  falsehood,  sir,"  insisted  M.  Seneschal. 
"  He  commenced  by  denying  that  he  had  gone  the 
way  on  which  the  witnesses  met  him." 

"  Very  naturally,  since  he  desires  to  keep  the  place 
unknown  to  which  he  went." 

"  He  did  not  say  any  more  when  he  was  told  that 
he  was  under  arrest." 

"  Because  he  hopes  he  will  get  out  of  this  trouble 
without  betraying  his  secret." 

"  If  that  were  so,  it  would  be  very  strange." 

"  Stranger  things  than  that  have  happened." 

"  To  allow  himself  to  be  accused  of  incendiarism 
and  murder  when  he  is  innocent ! " 

"  To  be  innocent,  and  to  allow  one's  self  to  be  con- 
demned, is  still  stranger;  and  yet  there  are  in- 
stances " — 

The  young  lawyer  spoke  in  that  short,  imperious 
tone  which  is,  so  to  say,  the  privilege  of  his  profession, 
and  with^  such  an  accent  of  assurance,  that  M.  de 
Chandore  felt  his  hopes  revive.  M.  Seneschal  was 
sorely  troubled. 

"  And  what  do  you  think,  sir  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  That  M.  de  Boiscoran  must  be  innocent,"  replied 
the  young  advocate.  And,  without  leaving  time  for 
objections,  he  continued, — 

"  That  is  the  opinion  of  a  man  who  is  not  influenced 
by  any  consideration.  I  come  here  without  any  pre- 
conceived notions.  I  do  not  know  Count  Claudieuse 
any  more  than  M.  de  Boiscoran.  A  crime  has  been 
committed :  I  am  told  the  circumstances ;  and  I  at  once 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  reasons  which  led  to 
the  arrest  of  the  accused  would  lead  me  to  set  him  at 
liberty." 

"  Oh !  " 


130     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Let  me  explain.  If  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  guilty,  he 
has  shown,  in  the  way  in  which  he  received  M.  Galpin 
at  his  house,  a  perfectly  unheard-of  self-control,  and  a 
matchless  genius  for  comedy.  Therefore,  if  he  is 
guilty,  he  is  immensely  clever  " — 

"  But." 

"  Allow  me  to  finish.  If  he  is  guilty,  he  has  in  the 
examination  shown  a  marvellous  want  of  self-control, 
and,  to  be  brief,  a  nameless  stupidity :  therefore,  if  he 
is  guilty,  he  is  immensely  stupid  " — 

"  But." 

"  Allow  me  to  finish.  Can  one  and  the  same  person 
be  at  once  so  unusually  clever  and  so  unusually  stupid  ? 
Judge  yourself.  But  again:  if  M.  de  Boiscoran  is 
guilty,  he  ought  to  be  sent  to  the  insane  asylum,  and  not 
to  prison ;  for  any  one  else  but  a  madman  would  have 
poured  out  the  dirty  water  in  which  he  had  washed 
his  blackened  hands,  and  would  have  buried  anywhere 
that  famous  breech-loader,  of  which  the  prosecution 
makes  such  good  use." 

"  Jacques  is  safe !  "  exclaimed  M.  de  Chandore. 

M.  Seneschal  was  not  so  easily  won  over. 

"  That  is  specious  pleading,"  he  said.  "  Unfortu- 
nately, we  want  something  more  than  a  logic  conclu- 
sion to  meet  a  jury  with  an  abundance  of  witnesses 
on  the  other  side." 

"  We  will  find  more  on  our  side." 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  have  just  told  you  my  first  im- 
pression. Now  I  must  study  the  case,  and  examine 
the  witnesses,  beginning  with  old  Anthony." 

M.  de  Chandore  had  risen.     He  said, — 

"  We  can  reach  Boiscoran  in  an  hour.  Shall  I  send 
for  my  carriage  ?  " 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     131 

"  As  quickly  as  possible,"  replied  the  young  lawyer. 

M.  de  Chandore's  servant  was  back  in  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  and  announced  that  the  carriage  was  at  the 
door.  M.  de  Chandore  and  M.  Folgat  took  their 
seats;  and,  whilst  they  were  getting  in,  the  mayor 
warned  the  young  Paris  lawyer, — 

"  Above  all,  be  prudent  and  circumspect.  The  pub- 
lic mind  is  already  but  too  much  inflamed.  Politics 
are  mixed  up  with  this  case.  I  am  afraid  of  some  dis- 
turbance at  the  burial  of  the  firemen;  and  they  bring 
me  word  that  Dr.  Seignebos  wants  to  make  a  speech 
at  the  graveyard.  Good-by  and  good  luck !  " 

The  driver  whipped  the  horse,  and,  as  the  carriage 
was  going  down  through  the  suburbs,  M.  de  Chandore 
said, — 

"  I  cannot  understand  why  Anthony  did  not  come 
to  me  immediately  after  his  master  had  been  arrested. 
What  can  have  happened  to  him  ?  " 


IV. 

M.  SENESCHAL'S  horse  was  perhaps  one  of  the  very 
best  in  the  whole  province ;  but  M.  de  Chandore's  was 
still  better.  In  less  than  fifty  minutes  they  had  driven 
the  whole  distance  to  Boiscoran ;  and  during  this  time 
M.  de  Chandore  and  M.  Folgat  had  not  exchanged 
fifty  words. 

When  they  reached  Boiscoran,  the  courtyard  was 
silent  and  deserted.  Doors  and  windows  were  her- 
metically closed.  On  the  steps  of  the  porch  sat  a 
stout  young  peasant,  who,  at  the  sight  of  the  new- 
comers, rose,  and  carried  his  hand  to  his  cap. 

"  Where  is  Anthony  ?  "  asked  M.  de  Chandore. 


i32     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"Up  stairs,  sir." 

The  old  gentleman  tried  to  open  the  door:  it  re- 
sisted. 

"  O  sir !  Anthony  has  barricaded  the  door  from  the 
inside." 

"  A  curious  idea,"  said  M.  de  Chandore,  knocking 
with  the  butt-end  of  his  whip. 

He  was  knocking  fiercer  and  fiercer,  when  at  last 
Anthony's  voice  was  heard  from  within, — 

"Who  is  there?" 

"  It  is  I,  Baron  Chandore." 

The  bars  were  removed  instantly,  and  the  old  valet 
showed  himself  in  the  door.  He  looked  pale  and  un- 
done. The  disordered  condition  of  his  beard,  his  hair, 
and  his  dress,  showed  that  he  had  not  been  to  bed.  And 
this  disorder  was  full  of  meaning  in  a  man  who  or- 
dinarily prided  himself  upon  appearing  always  in  the 
dress  of  an  English  gentleman. 

M.  de  Chandore  was  so  struck  by  this,  that  he  asked, 
first  of  all, — 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  my  good  Anthony  ?  " 

Instead  of  replying,  Anthony  drew  the  baron  and 
his  companion  inside ;  and,  when  he  had  fastened  the 
door  again,  he  crossed  his  arms,  and  said, — 

"  The  matter  is — well,  I  am  afraid." 

The  old  gentleman  and  the  lawyer  looked  at  each 
other.  They  evidently  both  thought  the  poor  man 
had  lost  his  mind.  Anthony  saw  it,  and  said 
quickly, — 

"  No,  I  am  not  mad,  although,  certainly,  there  are 
things  passing  here  which  could  make  one  doubtful 
of  one's  own  senses.  If  I  am  afraid,  it  is  for  good 
reasons." 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     133 

"  You  do  not  doubt  your  master  ?  "  asked  M.  Fol- 
gat. 

The  servant  cast  such  fierce,  threatening  glances  at 
the  lawyer,  that  M.  de  Chandore  hastened  to  interfere. 

"  My  dear  Anthony,"  he  said,  "  this  gentleman  is 
a  friend  of  mine,  a  lawyer,  who  has  come  down  from 
Paris  with  the  marchioness  to  defend  Jacques.  You 
need  not  mistrust  him,  nay,  more  than  that,  you  must 
tell  him  all  you  know,  even  if  " — 

The  trusty  old  servant's  face  brightened  up,  and 
he  exclaimed, — 

"  Ah !  If  the  gentleman  is  a  lawyer.  Welcome, 
sir.  Now  I  can  say  all  that  weighs  on  my  heart.  No, 
most  assuredly  I  do  not  think  Master  Jacques  guilty. 
It  is  impossible  he  should  be  so :  it  is  absurd  to  think 
of  it.  But  what  I  believe,  what  I  am  sure  of,  is  this, 
— there  is  a  plot  to  charge  him  with  all  the  horrors  of 
Valpinson." 

"  A  plot  ?  "  broke  in  M.  Folgat,  "  whose  ?  how  ?  and 
what  for  ?  " 

"  Ah !  that  is  more  than  I  know.  But  I  am  not  mis- 
taken; and  you  would  think  so  too,  if  you  had  been 
present  at  the  examination,  as  I  was.  It  was  fearful, 
gentlemen,  it  was  unbearable,  so  that  even  I  was  stupe- 
fied for  a  moment,  and  thought  my  master  was  guilty, 
and  advised  him  to  flee.  The  like  has  never  been 
heard  of  before,  I  am  sure.  Every  thing  went  against 
him.  Every  answer  he  made  sounded  like  a  confes- 
sion. A  crime  had  been  committed  at  Valpinson;  he 
had  been  seen  going  there  and  coming  back  by  side 
paths.  A  fire  had  been  kindled ;  his  hands  bore  traces 
of  charcoal.  Shots  had  been  fired ;  they  found  one  of 
his  cartridge-cases  close  to  the  spot  where  Count  Clau- 


i34     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

dieuse  had  been  wounded.  There  it  was  I  saw  the 
plot.  How  could  all  these  circumstances  have  agreed 
so  precisely  if  they  had  not  been  pre-arranged,  and 
calculated  beforehand?  Our  poor  M.  Daubigeon  had 
tears  in  his  eyes ;  and  even  that  meddlesome  fellow, 
Mechinet,  the  clerk,  was  quite  overcome.  M.  Galpin 
was  the  only  one  who  looked  pleased ;  but  then  he  was 
the  magistrate,  and  he  put  the  questions.  He,  my 
master's  friend ! — a  man  who  was  constantly  coming 
here,  who  ate  our  bread,  slept  in  our  beds,  and  shot 
our  game.  Then  it  was,  *  My  dear  Jacques,'  and  '  My 
dear  Boiscoran '  always,  and  no  end  of  compliments 
and  caresses ;  so  that  I  often  thought  one  of  these  days 
I  should  find  him  blackening  my  master's  boots.  Ah ! 
he  took  his  revenge  yesterday ;  and  you  ought  to  have 
seen  with  what  an  air  he  said  to  master,  '  We  are 
friends  no  longer.'  The  rascal!  No,  we  are  friends 
no  longer;  and,  if  God  was  just,  you  ought  to  have 
all  the  shot  in  your  body  that  has  wounded  Count 
Claudieuse." 

M.  de  Chandore  was  growing  more  and  more  im- 
patient. As  soon,  therefore,  as  Anthony's  breath  gave 
out  a  moment,  he  said, — • 

"  Why  did  you  not  come  and  tell  me  all  that  im- 
mediately ?  " 

The  old  servant  ventured  to  shrug  his  shoulders 
slightly,  and  replied, — 

"  How  could  I  ?  When  the  examination  was  over, 
that  man,  Galpin,  put  the  seals  everywhere, — strips  of 
linen,  fastened  on  with  sealing-wax,  as  they  do  with 
dead  people.  He  put  one  on  every  opening,  and  on 
some  of  them  two.  He  put  three  on  the  outer  door. 
Then  he  told  me  that  he  appointed  me  keeper  of  the 
house,  that  I  would  be  paid  for  it,  but  that  I  would 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     135 

be  sent  to  the  galleys  if  any  one  touched  the  seals  with 
the  tip  of  the  finger.  When  he  had  handed  master 
over  to  the  gendarmes,  that  man,  Galpin,  went  away, 
leaving  me  here  alone,  dumfounded,  like  a  man  who 
has  been  knocked  in  the  head.  Nevertheless,  I  should 
have  come  to  you,  sir,  but  I  had  an  idea,  and  that  gave 
me  the  shivers." 

Grandpapa  Chandore  stamped  his  foot,  and  said, — 

"  Come  to  the  point,  to  the  point ! " 

"  It  was  this :  you  must  know,  gentlemen,  that,  in 
the  examination,  that  breech-loading  gun  played  a 
prominent  part.  That  man,  Galpin,  looked  at  it  care- 
fully, and  asked  master  when  he  had  last  fired  it  off. 
Master  said,  '  About  five  days  ago.  You  hear,  I  say, 
five  days/  Thereupon,  that  man,  Galpin,  puts  the 
gun  down,  without  looking  at  the  barrels." 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  M.  Folgat. 

"  Well,  sir,  I — Anthony — I  had  the  evening  before 
— I  say  the  evening  before — cleaned  the  gun,  washed 
it,  and"— 

"  Upon  my  word,"  cried  M.  de  Chandore,  "  why 
did  you  not  say  so  at  once?  If  the  barrels  are  clean, 
that  is  an  absolute  proof  that  Jacques  is  innocent." 

The  old  servant  shook  his  head,  and  said, — 

"  To  be  sure,  sir.     But  are  they  clean  ?  " 

"  Oh !  " 

"  Master  may  be  mistaken  as  to  the  time  when  he 
last  fired  the  gun,  and  then  the  barrels  would  be  soiled ; 
and,  instead  of  helping  him,  my  evidence  might  ruin 
him  definitely.  Before  I  say  any  thing,  I  ought  to 
be  sure." 

"  Yes,"  said  Folgat,  approvingly,  "  and  you  have 
done  well  to  keep  silence,  my  good  man,  and  I  cannot 
urge  you  too  earnestly  not  to  say  a  word  of  it  to  any 


136     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

one.  That  fact  may  become  a  decisive  argument  for 
the  defence." 

"  Oh !  I  can  keep  my  tongue,  sir.  Only  you  may 
imagine  how  impatient  it  has  made  me  to  see  these 
accursed  seals  which  prevent  me  from  going  to  look 
at  the  gun.  Oh,  if  I  had  dared  to  break  one  of  them !  " 

"Poor  fellow!" 

"  I  thought  of  doing  it ;  but  I  checked  myself.  Then 
it  occurred  to  me  that  other  people  might  think  of  the 
same  thing.  The  rascals  who  have  formed  this  abomi- 
nable plot  against  Master  Jacques  are  capable  of  any 
thing,  don't  you  think  so  ?  Why  might  not  they  come 
some  night,  and  break  the  seals?  I  put  the  steward 
on  guard  in  the  garden,  beneath  the  windows.  I  put 
his  son  as  a  sentinel  into  the  courtyard;  and  I  have 
myself  stood  watch  before  the  seals  with  arms  in  my 
hands  all  the  time.  Let  the  rascals  come  on :  they  will 
find  somebody  to  receive  them." 

In  spite  of  all  that  is  said,  lawyers  are  better  than 
their  reputation.  Lawyers,  accused  of  being  sceptics 
above  all  men,  are,  on  the  contrary,  credulous  and  sim- 
ple-minded. Their  enthusiasm  is  sincere;  and,  when 
we  think  they  play  a  part,  they  are  in  earnest.  In  the 
majority  of  cases,  they  fancy  their  own  side  the  just 
one,  even  though  they  should  be  beaten.  Hour  by 
hour,  ever  since  his  arrival  at  Sauveterre,  M.  Folgat's 
faith  in  Jacques's  innocence  had  steadily  increased. 
Old  Anthony's  tale  was  not  made  to  shake  his  growing 
conviction.  He  did  not  admit  the  existence  of  a  plot, 
however;  but  he  was  not  disinclined  to  believe  in  the 
cunning  calculations  of  some  rascal,  who,  availing 
himself  of  circumstances  known  to  him  alone,  tried  to 
let  all  suspicion  fall  upon  M.  de  Boiscoran,  instead 
of  himself. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     137 

But  there  were  many  more  questions  to  be  asked; 
and  Anthony  was  in  such  a  state  of  feverish  excite- 
ment, that  it  was  difficult  to  induce  him  to  answer. 
For  it  is  not  so  easy  to  examine  a  man,  however  in- 
clined he  may  be  to  answer.  It  requires  no  small  self- 
possession,  much  care,  and  an  imperturbable  method, 
without  which  the  most  important  facts  are  apt  to 
be  overlooked.  M.  Folgat  began,  therefore,  after  a 
moment's  pause,  once  more,  saying, — 

"  My  good  Anthony,  I  cannot  praise  your  conduct 
in  this  matter  too  highly.  However,  we  have  not  done 
with  it  yet.  But  as  I  have  eaten  nothing  since  I  left 
Paris  last  night,  and  as  I  hear  the  bell  strike  twelve 
o'clock  "— 

M.  de  Chandore  seemed  to  be  heartily  ashamed,  and 
broke  in, — 

"  Ah,  forgetful  old  man  that  I  am !  why  did  I  not 
think  of  it?  But  you  will  pardon  me,  I  am  sure.  I 
am  so  completely  upset.  Anthony,  what  can  you  let 
us  have  ?  " 

"  The  housekeeper  has  eggs,  potted  fowl,  ham  " — 

"  Whatever  can  be  made  ready  first  will  be  the 
best,"  said  the  young  lawyer. 

"  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  table  shall  be  set," 
replied  the  servant. 

He  hurried  away,  while  M.  de  Chandore  invited  M. 
Folgat  into  the  sitting-room.  The  poor  grandfather 
summoned  all  his  energy  to  keep  up  appearances. 

"  This  fact  about  the  gun  will  save  him,  won't  it  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  replied  the  famous  advocate. 

And  they  were  silent, — the  grandfather  thinking  of 
the  grief  of  his  grandchild,  and  cursing  the  day  on 
which  he  kad  opened  his  house  to  Jacques,  and  with 


138     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

him  to  such  heart-rending  anguish ;  the  lawyer  arrang- 
ing in  his  mind  the  facts  he  had  learned,  and  prepar- 
ing the  questions  he  was  going  to  ask.  They  were 
both  so  fully  absorbed  by  their  thoughts,  that  they 
started  when  Anthony  reappeared,  and  said, — 

"  Gentlemen,  breakfast  is  ready !  " 

The  table  had  been  set  in  the  dining-room ;  and, 
when  the  two  gentlemen  had  taken  their  seats,  old 
Anthony  placed  himself,  his  napkin  over  the  arm,  be- 
hind them ;  but  M.  de  Chandore  called  him,  saying, — 

"  Put  another  plate,  Anthony,  and  breakfast  with 
us." 

"  Oh,  .sir,"  protested,  the  old  servant, — sir  " — 

"  Sit  down,"  repeated  the  baron :  "  if  you  eat  after 
us,  you  will  make  us  lose  time,  and  an  old  servant  like 
you  is  a  member  of  the  family." 

Anthony  obeyed,  quite  overcome,  but  blushing  with 
delight  at  the  honor  that  was  done  him ;  for  the  Baron 
de  Chandore  did  not  usually  distinguish  himself  by 
familiarity.  When  the  ham  and  eggs  of  the  house- 
keeper had  been  disposed  of,  M.  Folgat  said, — 

"  Now  let  us  go  back  to  business.  Keep  cool,  my 
dear  Anthony,  and  remember,  that,  unless  we  get  the 
court  to  say  that  there  is  no  case,  your  answers  may 
become  the  basis  of  our  defence.  What'  were  M.  de 
Boiscoran's  habits  when  he  was  here  ?  " 

"  When  he  was  here,  sir,  he  had,  so  to  say,  no 
habits.  We  came  here  very  rarely,  and  only  for  a 
short  time." 

"  Never  mind :  what  was  he  doing  here  ?  " 

"  He  used  to  rise  late ;  he  walked  about  a  good  deal ; 
he  sometimes  went  out  hunting ;  he  sketched ;  he  read, 
for  master  is  a  great  reader,  and  is  as  fond  of  his 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     139 

books  as  the  marquis,  his  father,  is  of  his  porce- 
lains." 

"  Who  came  here  to  see  him  ?  " 

"  M.  Galpin  most'  frequently,  Dr.  Seignebos,  the 
priest  from  Brechy,  M.  Seneschal,  M.  Daubigeon." 

"  How  did  he  spend  his  evenings  ?  " 

"  At  M.  de  Chandore's,  who  can  tell  you  all  about  it." 

"  He  had  no  other  relatives  in  this  country  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  You  do  not  know  that  he  had  any  lady  friend  ?  " 

Anthony  looked  as  if  he  would  have  blushed. 

"  Oh,  sir! "  he  said,  "you  do  not  know,  I  presume, 
that  master  is  engaged  to  Miss  Dionysia  ?  " 

The  Baron  de  Chandore  was  not  a  baby,  as  he  liked 
to  call  it.  Deeply  interested  as  he  was,  he  got  up,  and 
said, — 

"  I  want  to  take  a  little  fresh  air." 

And  he  went  out,  understanding  very  well  that  his 
being  Dionysia's  grandfather  might  keep  Anthony 
from  telling  the  truth. 

"  That  is  a  sensible  man,"  thought  M.  Folgat. 

Then  he  added  aloud, — 

"  Now  we  are  alone,  my  dear  Anthony,  you  can 
speak  frankly.  Did  M.  de  Boiscoran  keep  a  mis- 
tress ?  " 

"  No,  sir. 

"  Did  he  ever  have  one  ?  " 

"  Never.  They  will  tell  you,  perhaps,  that  once 
upon  a  time  he  was  rather  pleased  with  a  great,  big 
red-haired  woman,  the  daughter  of  a  miller  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  that  the  gypsy  of  a  woman  came 
more  frequently  to  the  chateau  than  was  needful, — 
now  on  one  pretext,  and  now  on  another.  But  that 


i4o     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

was  mere  childishness.  Besides,  that  was  five  years 
ago,  and  the  woman  has  been  married  these  three 
years  to  a  basket-maker  at  Marennes." 

"  You  are  quite  sure  of  what  you  say  ?  " 

"  As  sure  as  I  am  of  myself.  And  you  would  be 
as  sure  of  it  yourself,  if  you  knew  the  country  as  I 
know  it,  and  the  abominable  tongues  the  people  have. 
There  is  no  concealing  any  thing  from  them.  I  defy 
a  man  to  talk  three  times  to  a  woman  without  their 
finding  it  out,  and  making  a  story  of  it.  I  say  noth- 
ing of  Paris  " — 

M.  Folgat  listened  attentively.     He  asked, — 

"  Ah !  was  there  any  thing  of  the  kind  in  Paris  ?  " 

Anthony  hesitated;  at  last  he  said, — 

"  You  see,  master's  secrets  are  not  my  secrets,  and, 
after  the  oath  I  have  sworn," — 

"  It  may  be,  however,  that  his  safety  depends  upon 
your  frankness  in  telling  me  all,"  said  the  lawyer. 
"  You  may  be  sure  he  will  not  blame  you  for  having 
spoken." 

For  several  seconds  the  old  servant  remained  unde- 
cided ;  then  he  said, — 

"  Master,  they  say,  has  had  a  great  love-affair." 

"When?" 

"  I  do  not  know  when.  That  was  before  I  entered 
his  service.  All  I  know  is,  that,  for  the  purpose  of 
meeting  the  person,  master  had  bought  at  Passy,  at 
the  end  of  Vine  Street,  a  beautiful  house,  in  the  cen- 
tre of  a  large  garden,  which  he  had  furnished  mag- 
nificently." 

"  Ah !  " 

"  That  is  a  secret,  which,  of  course,  neither  master's 
father  nor  his  mother  knows  to  this  day;  and  I  only 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     141 

know  it,  because  one  day  master  fell  down  the  steps, 
and  dislocated  his  foot,  so  that  he  had  to  send  for  me 
to  nurse  him.  He  may  have  bought  the  house  under 
his  own  name ;  but  he  was  not  known  by  it  there.  He 
passed  for  an  Englishman,  a  Mr.  Burnett ;  and  he  had 
an  English  maid-servant." 

"And  the  person?" 

"  Ah,  sir !  I  not  only  do  not  know  who  she  is,  but 
I  cannot  even  guess  it,  she  took  such  extraordinary 
precautions !  Now  that  I  mean  to  tell  you  every 
thing,  I  will  confess  to  you  that  I  had  the  curiosity 
to  question  the  English  maid.  She  told  me  that  she 
was  no  farther  than  I  was ;  that  she  knew,  to  be  sure, 
a  lady  was  coming  there  from  time  to  time ;  but  that 
she  had  never  seen  even  the  end  of  her  nose.  Master 
always  managed  it  so  well,  that  the  girl  was  invaria- 
bly out  on  some  errand  or  other  when  the  lady  came 
and  when  she  went  away.  While  she  was  in  the 
house,  master  waited  upon  her  himself.  And  when 
they  wanted  to  walk  in  the  garden,  then  sent  the  ser- 
vant away,  on  some  fool's  errand,  to  Versailles  or  to 
Fontainebleau ;  and  she  was  mad,  I  tell  you." 

M.  Folgat  began  to  twist  his  mustache,  as  he  was 
in  the  habit  of  doing  when  he  was  specially  interested. 
For  a  moment,  he  thought  he  saw  the  woman — that  in- 
evitable woman  who  is  always  at  the  bottom  of  every 
great  event  in  man's  life;  and  just  then  she  vanished 
from  his  sight ;  for  he  tortured  his  mind  in  vain  to  dis- 
cover a  possible  if  not  probable  connection  between  the 
mysterious  visitor  in  Vine  Street  and  the  events  that 
had  happened  at  Valpinson.  He  could  not  see  a  trace. 
Rather  discouraged,  he  asked  once  more, — 

"  After  all,  my  dear  Anthony,  this  great  love-affair 
of  your  master's  has  come  to  an  end  ?  " 


i42     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  It  seems  so,  sir,  since  Master  Jacques  was  going 
to  marry  Miss  Dionysia." 

That  reason  was  perhaps  not  quite  as  conclusive  as 
the  good  old  servant  imagined;  but  the  young  advo- 
cate made  no  remark. 

"  And  when  do  you  think  it  came  to  an  end  ?  " 

"  During  the  war,  master  and  the  lady  must  have 
been  parted;  for  master  did  not  stay  in  Paris.  He 
commanded  a  volunteer  company;  and  he  was  even 
wounded  in  the  head,  which  procured  him  the  cross." 

"  Does  he  still  own  the  house  in  Vine  Street  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so." 

"Why?" 

"  Because,  some  time  ago,  when  master  and  I  went 
to  Paris  for  a  week,  he  said  to  me  one  day,  '  The  War 
and  the  commune  have  cost  me  dear.  My  cottage  has 
had  more  than  twenty  shells,  and  it  has  been  in  turn 
occupied  by  Francs-tireurs,  Communists  and  Regu- 
lars. The  walls  are  broken;  and  there  is  not  a  piece 
of  furniture  uninjured.  My  architect  tells  me,  that, 
all  in  all,  the  repairs  will  cost  me  some  ten  thousand 
dollars." 

"  What  ?  Repairs  ?  Then  he  thought  of  going  back 
there?" 

"  At  that  time,  sir,  master's  marriage  had  not  been 
settled.  Yet " — 

"  Still  that  would  go  to  prove  that  he  had  at  that 
time  met  the  mysterious  lady  once  more,  and  that  the 
war  had  not  broken  off  their  relations." 

"  That  may  be." 

"  And  has  he  never  mentioned  the  lady  again  ?  " 

"  Never." 

At  this  moment  M.  de  Chandore's  cough  was  heard 
in  the  hall, — that  cough  which  men  affect  when  they 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     143 

wish  to  announce  their  coming.  Immediately  after- 
wards he  reappeared ;  and  M.  Folgat  said  to  him,  to 
show  that  his  presence  was  no  longer  inconvenient, — 

"  Upon  my  word,  sir,  I  was  just  on  the  point  of 
going  in  search  of  you,  for  fear  that  you  felt  really 
unwell." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  the  old  gentleman,  "  the  fresh 
air  has  done  me  good." 

He  sat  down ;  and  the  young  advocate  turned  again 
to  Anthony,  saying, — 

"  Well,  let  us  go  on.  How  was  he  the  day  before 
the  fire?" 

"Just  as  usual." 

"  What  did  he  do  before  he  went  out  ?  " 

"  He  dined  as  usual  with  a  good  appetite ;  then  he 
went  up  stairs  and  remained  there  for  an  hour.  When 
he  came  down,  he  had  a  letter  in  his  hand,  which  he 
gave  to  Michael,  our  tenant's  son,  and  told  him  to 
carry  it  to  Sauveterre,  to  Miss  Chandore." 

"  Yes.  In  that  letter,  M.  de  Boiscoran  told  Miss 
Dionysia  that  he  was  retained  here  by  a  matter  of 
great  importance." 

"  Ah !  " 

"  Have  you  any  idea  what  that  could  have  been  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  sir,  I  assure  you." 

"  Still  let  us  see.  M.  de  Boiscoran  must  have  had 
powerful  reasons  to  deprive  himself  of  the  pleasure  of 
spending  the  evening  with  Miss  Dionysia  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"  He  must  also  have  had  his  reasons  for  taking  to 
the  marshes,  on  his  way  out,  instead  of  going  by  the 
turnpike,  and  for  coming  back  through  the  woods." 

Old  Anthony  was  literally  tearing  his  hair,  as  he 
exclaimed, — 


144     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Ah,  sir !  these  are  the  very  words  M.  Galpin  said." 

"  Unfortunately  every  man  in  his  senses  will  say 
so." 

"  I  know,  sir :  I  know  it  but  too  well.  And  Master 
Jacques  himself  knew  it  so  well  that  at  first  he  tried 
to  find  some  pretext;  but  he  has  never  told  a  false- 
hood— Master  Jacques :  he  can't  tell  a  falsehood. 
And  he  who  is  such  a  clever  man  could  not  find 
a  pretext  that  had  any  sense  in  it.  He  said  he  had 
gone  to  Brechy  to  see  his  wood-merchant " — 

"  And  why  should  he  not  ?  " 

Anthony  shook  his  head,  and  said, — 

"  Because  the  wood-merchant  at  Brechy  is  a  thief, 
and  everybody  knows  that  master  has  kicked  him  out 
of  the  house  some  three  years  ago.  We  sell  all  our 
wood  at  Sauveterre." 

M.  Folgat  had  taken  out  a  note-book,  and  wrote 
down  some  of  Anthony's  statements,  preparing  thus 
the  outline  of  his  defence.  This  being  done,  he  com- 
menced again, — 

"  Now  we  come  to  Cocoleu." 

"  Ah  the  wretch !  "  cried  Anthony. 

"You  know  him?" 

"  How  could  I  help  knowing  him,  when  I  lived  all 
my  life  here  at  Boiscoran  in  the  service  of  master's 
uncle?" 

"  Then  what  kind  of  a  man  is  he  ?  " 

"  An  idiot,  sir,  or,  as  they  here  call  it,  an  innocent, 
who  has  Saint  Vitus  dance  into  the  bargain,  and  epi- 
lepsy moreover." 

"  Then  it  is  perfectly  notorious  that  he  is  imbecile  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  although  I  have  heard  people  insist  that 
he  is  not  quite  so  stupid  as  he  looks,  and  that,  as  they 
say  here,  he  plays  the  ass  in  order  to  get  his  oats  " — 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     145 

M.  de  Chandore  interrupted  him,  and  said, — 

"  On  this  subject  Dr.  Seignebos  :can  give  you  all 
the  information  you  may  want:  he  kept  Cocoleu  for 
nearly  two  years  at  his  own  house." 

"  I  mean  to  see  the  doctor,"  replied  M.  Folgat. 
"  But  first  of  all  we  must  find  this  unfortunate  idiot." 

"  You  heard  what  M.  Seneschal  said :  he  has  put 
the  gendarmes  on  his  track." 

"  Anthony  made  a  face,  and  said, — 

"  If  the  gendarmes  should  take  Cocoleu,  Cocoleu 
must  have  given  himself  up  voluntarily." 

"Why  so?" 

"  Because,  gentlemen,  there  is  no  one  who  knows 
all  the  by-ways  and  out-of-the-way  confers  of  the 
country  so  well  as  that, idiot;  for  he  has  been  hiding 
all  his  life  like  a  savage  in  all  the  holes  and  hiding- 
places  that  are  about  here;  and,  as  he  can  live  per- 
fectly well  on  roots  and  berries,  he  may  stay  away 
three  months  without  being  seen  by  any  one." 

"Is  it  possible?"  exclaimed  M.  Folgat  angrily. 

"  I  know  only  one  man,"  continued  Anthony,  "  who 
could  find  out  Cocoleu,  and  that  is  our  tenant's  son 
Michael, — the  young  man  you  saw  down  stairs." 

"  Send  for  him/'  said  M.  de  Chandore. 

Michael  appeared  promptly,  and,  when  he  had 
heard  what  he  was  expected  to  do,  he  replied, — 

"  The  thing  can  be  done,  certainly ;  but  it  is  not 
very  easy.  Cocoleu  has  not  the  sense  of  a  man;  but 
he  has  all  the  instincts  of  a  brute.  However,  I'll  try." 

There  was  nothing  to  keep  either  M.  de  Chandore 
or  M.  Folgat  any  longer  at  Boiscoran ;  hence,  after 
having  warned  Anthony  to  watch  the  seals  well,  and 
to  get  a  glimpse,  if  possible,  of  Jacques's  gun,  when 
the  officers  should  come  for  the  different  articles,  they 


i46     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

left  the  chateau.  It  was  five  o'clock  when  they  drove 
into  town  again.  Dionysia  was  waiting  for  them  in 
the  sitting-room.  She  rose  as  they  entered,  looking 
quite  pale,  with  dry,  brilliant  eyes. 

"  What  ?  You  are  alone  here !  "  said  M.  de  Chan- 
dore.  "  Why  have  they  left  you  alone  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  angry,  grandpapa.  I  have  just  prevailed 
on  the  marchioness,  who  was  exhausted  with  fatigue 
to  lie  down  for  an  hour  or  so  before  dinner." 

"  And  your  aunts  ?  " 

"  They  have  gone  out,  grandpapa.  They  are  prob- 
ably, by  this  time,  at  M.  Galpin's." 

"  M.  Folgat  started,  and  said, — 

"  Oh !  "  ' 

"  But  that  is  foolish  in  them ! "  exclaimed  the  old 
gentleman. 

The  young  girl  closed  his  lips  by  a  single  word. 
She  said, — 

"  I  asked  them  to  go." 


V. 

YES,  the  step  taken  by  the  Misses  Lavarande  was 
foolish.  At  the  point  which  things  had  reached  now, 
their  going  to  see  M.  Galpin  was  perhaps  equivalent 
to  furnishing  him  the  means  to  crush  Jacques.  But 
whose  fault  was  it,  but  M.  de  Chandore's  and  M.  Fol- 
gat's?  Had  they  not  committed  an  unpardonable 
blunder  in  leaving  Sauveterre  without  any  other  pre- 
caution than  to  send  word  through  M.  Seneschal's  ser- 
vant, that  they  would  be  back  for  dinner,  and  that 
they  need  not  be  troubled  about  them  ? 

Not  be  troubled!  and  that  to  the  Marchioness  de 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     147 

Boiscoran  and  Dionysia,  to  Jacques's  mother  and 
Jacques's  betrothed. 

Certainly,  at  first,  the  two  wretched'  women  pre- 
served their  self-control  in  a  manner,  trying-  to  set 
each  other  an  example  of  courage  and  confidence. 
But,  as  hour  after  ^lour  passed  by,  their  anxiety  be- 
came intolerable ;  and  gradualy,  as  they  confided  their 
apprehensions  to  each  other,  their  grief  broke  out 
openly.  They  thought  of  Jacques  being  innocent,  and 
yet  treated  like  one  of  the  worst  criminals,  alone 
in  the  depth  of  his  prison,  given  up  to  the  most  horri- 
ble inspirations  of  despair.  What  could  have  been 
his  feelings  during  the  twenty-four  hours  which  had 
brought  him  no  news  from  his  friends?  Must  he  not 
fancy  himself  despised  and  abandoned? 

"  That  is  an  intolerable  thought !  "  exclaimed  Diony- 
sia at  last.  "  We  must  get  to  him  at  any  price." 

"  How  ?  "  asked  the  marchioness. 

"  I  do  not  know ;  but  there  must  be  some  way.  There 
are  things  which  I  would  not  have  ventured  upon  as 
long  as  I  was  alone ;  but,  with  you  by  my  side,  I  can 
risk  any  thing.  Let  us  go  to  the  prison." 

The  old  lady  promptly  put  a  shawl  around  her  shoul- 
ders, and  said, — 

"  I  am  ready ;  let  us  go." 

They  had  both  heard  repeatedly  that  Jacques  was 
kept  in  "  close  confinement ;  "  but  neither  of  them 
realized  fully  what  that  meant.  They  had  no  idea 
of  this,  atrocious  measure,  which  is,  nevertheless,  ren- 
dered necessary  by  the  peculiar  forms  of  French  law- 
proceedings, — a  measure  which,  so  to  say,  immures  a 
man  alive,  and  leaves  him  in  his  cell  alone  with  the 
crime  with  which  he  is  charged,  and  utterly  at  the 
mercy  of  another  man,  whose  duty  it  is  to  extort  the 


i48     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

truth  from  him.  The  two  ladies  only  saw  the  want 
of  liberty,  a  cell  with  its  dismal  outfittings,  the  bars 
at  the  window,  the  bolts  at  the  door,  the  jailer  shaking 
his  bunch  of  keys  at  his  belt,  and  the  tramp  of  the 
solitary  sentinel  in  the  long  passages. 

"  They  cannot  refuse  me  permission,"  said  the  old 
lady,  "  to  see  my  son." 

"  They  cannot,"  repeated  Dionysia.  "  And,  besides, 
I  know  the  jailer,  Blangin :  his  wife  was  formerly 
in  our  service." 

When  the  young  girl,  therefore,  raised  the  heavy 
knocker  at  the  prison-door,  she  was  full  of  cheerful 
confidence.  Blangin  himself  came  to  the  door;  and, 
at  the  sight  of  the  two  poor  ladies,  his  broad  face 
displayed  the  utmost  astonishment. 

"  We  come  to  see  M.  de  Boiscoran,"  said  Dionysia 
boldly. 

"  Have  you  a  permit,  ladies  ?  "  asked  the  keeper. 

"  From  whom  ?  " 

"  From  M.  Galpin." 

"  We  have  no  permit." 

"Then  I  am  very  sorry  to  have  to  tell  you,  ladies, 
that  you  cannot  possibly  see  M.  de  Boiscoran.  He 
is  kept  in  close  confinement,  and  I  have  the  strictest 
orders." 

Dionysia  looked  threatening,  and  said  sharply, — 

"  Your  orders  cannot  apply  to  this  lady,  who  is 
the  Marchioness  de  Boiscoran." 

"  My  orders  apply  to  everybody,  madam." 

"  You  would  not,  I  am  sure,  keep  a  poor,  dis- 
tressed mother  from  seeing  her  son ! " 

"  Ah !  but — madam — it  does  not  rest  with  me.  I  ? 
Who  am  I?  Nothing  more  than  one  of  the  bolts, 
drawn  or  pushed  at  will." 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     149 

For  the  first  time,  it  entered  the  poor  girl's  head 
that  her  effort  might  fail:  still  she  tried  once  more, 
with  tears  in  her  eyes, — 

"  But  I,  my  dear  M.  Blangin,  think  of  me !  You 
would  not  refuse  me?  Don't  you  know  who  I  am? 
Have  you  never  heard  your  wife  speak  of  me  ?  " 

The  jailer  was  certainly  touched.     He  replied, — 

"  I  know  how  much  my  wife  and  myself  are  in- 
debted to  your  kindness,  madam.  But — I  have  my 
orders,  and  you  surely  would  not  want  me  to  lose 
my  place,  madam  ?  " 

"If  you  lose  your  place,  M.  Blangin,  I,  Dionysia 
de  Chandore,  promise  you  another  place  twice  as 
good." 

"  Madam ! " 

"  You  do  not  doubt  my  word,  M.  Blangin,  do  you  ?  '* 

"  God  forbid,  madam !  But  it  is  not  my  place  only. 
If  I  did  what  you  want  me  to  do,  I  should  be  severely 
punished." 

The  marchioness  judged  from  the  jailer's  tone  that 
Dionysia  was  not  likely  to  prevail  over  him,  and  so 
she  said, — 

"  Don't  insist,  my  child.     Let  us  go  back." 

"  What  ?  Without  finding  out  what  is  going  on  be- 
hind these  pitiless  walls ;  without  knowing  even 
whether  Jacques  is  dead  or  alive  ?  " 

There  was  evidently  a  great  struggle  going  on  in 
the  jailer's  heart.  All  of  a  sudden  he  cast  a  rapid 
glance  around,  and  then  said,  speaking  very  hur- 
riedly,— 

"  I  ought  not  to  tell  you — but  never  mind — I  can- 
not let  you  go  away  without  telling  you  that  M.  de 
Boiscoran  is  quite  well." 

"  Ah !  " 


iSo     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Yesterday,  when  they  brought  him  here,  he  was, 
so  to  say,  overcome.  He  threw  himself  upon  his 
bed,  and  he  remained  there  without  stirring  for  over 
two  hours.  I  think  he  must  have  been  crying." 

A  sob,  which  Dionysia  could  not  suppress,  made 
Blangin  start. 

"  Oh,  reassure  yourself,  madam  !  "  he  added  quickly. 
"  That  state  of  things  did  not  last  long.  Soon  M.  de 
Boiscoran  got  up,  and  said,  '  Why,  I  am  a  fool  to  de- 
spair ! ' " 

"  Did  you  hear  him  say  so  ?  "  asked  the  old  lady. 

"  Not  I.    It  was  Trumence  who  heard  it." 

"  Trumence  ?  " 

"  Yes,  one  of  our  jail-birds.  Oh !  he  is  only  a  vaga- 
bond, not  bad  at  all;  and  he  has  been  ordered  to 
stand  guard  at  the  door  of  M.  de  Boiscoran's  cell,  and 
not  for  a  moment  to  lose  sight  of  it.  It  was  M.  Galpin 
who  had  that  idea,  because  the  prisoners  sometimes, 
in  their  first  despair, — a  misfortune  happens  so  easily, 
— they  become  weary  of  life — Trumence  would  be 
there  to  prevent  it." 

The  old  lady  trembled  with  horror.  This  precau- 
tionary measure,  more  than  any  thing  else,  gave  her 
the  full  measure  of  her  son's  situation. 

"  However,"  M.  Blangin  went  on,  "  there  is  noth- 
ing to  fear.  M.  de  Boiscoran  became  quite  calm  again, 
and  even  cheerful,  if  I  may  say  so.  When  he  got  up 
this  morning,  after  having  slept  all  night  like  a  dor- 
mouse, he  sent  for  me,  and  asked  me  for  paper,  ink, 
and  pen.  All  the  prisoners  ask  for  that  the  second 
day.  I  had  orders  to  let  him  have  it,  and  so  I  gave  it 
to  him.  When  I  carried  him  his  breakfast,  he  handed 
me  a  letter  for  Miss  Chandore."  * 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     151 

"  What !  "  cried  Dionysia,  "  you  have  a  letter,  for 
me,  and  you  don't  give  it  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  have  it  now,  madam.  I  had  to  hand  it, 
as  is  my  duty,  to  M.  Galpin,  when  he  came  accompa- 
nied by  his  clerk,  Mechinet,  to  examine  M.  de  Bois- 
coran." 

"  And  what  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  opened  the  letter,  read  it,  put  it  into  his  pocket, 
and  said,  '  Well.'  " 

Tears  of  anger  this  time  sprang  from  Dionysia's 
eyes ;  and  she  cried, — 

"  What  a  shame !  This  man  reads  a  letter  written 
by  Jacques  to  me !  That  is  infamous !  " 

And,  without  thinking  of  thanking  Blangin,  she 
drew  off  the  old  lady,  and  all  the  way  home  did  not 
say  a  word. 

"  Ah,  poor  child,  you  did  not  succeed,"  exclaimed 
the  two  old  aunts,  when  they  saw  their  niece  come 
back. 

But,  when  they  had  heard  every  thing,  they  said, — 

"  Well,  we'll  go  and  see  him,  this  little  magistrate, 
who  but  the  day  before  yesterday  was  paying  us 
abject  court  to  obtain  the  hand  of  our  cousin.  And 
we'll  tell  him  the  truth;  and,  if  we  cannot  make  him 
give  us  back  Jacques,  we  will  at  least  trouble  him  in 
his  triumph,  and  take  down  his  pride." 

How  could  poor  Dionysia  help  adopting  the  notions 
of  the  old  ladies,  when  their  project  offered  such  im- 
mediate satisfaction  to  her  indignation,  and  at  the 
same  time  served  her  secret  hopes  ? 

"  Oh,  yes !  You  are  right,  dear  aunts,"  she  said. 
"Quick,  don't  lose  any  time;  go  at  once!" 

Unable   to   resist   her   entreaties,   they   started   in- 


152     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF-  HIS    LIFE 

stantly,  without  listening  to  the  timid  objections  made 
by  the  marchioness.  But  the  good  ladies  were  sadly 
mistaken  as  to  the  state  of  mind  of  M.  Galpin.  The 
ex-lover  of  one  of  their  cousins  was  not  bedded  on 
roses  by  any  means.  At  the  beginning  of  this  extraor- 
dinary affair  he  had  taken  hold  of  it  with  eagerness, 
looking  upon  it  as  an  admirable  opportunity,  long  looked 
for,  and  likely  to  open  wide  the  doors  to  his  burning 
ambition.  Then  having  once  begun,  and  the  investi- 
gation being  under  way,  he  had  been  carried  away  by 
the  current,  without  having  time  to  reflect.  He  had 
even  felt  a  kind  of  unhealthy  satisfaction  at  seeing 
the  evidence  increasing,  until  he  felt  justified  and  com- 
pelled to  order  his  former  friend  to  be  sent  to  prison. 
At  that  time  he  was  fairly  dazzled  by  the  most  mag- 
nificent expectations.  This  preliminary  inquiry,  which 
in  a  few  hours  already  had  led  to  the  discovery  of  a 
culprit  the  most  unlikely  of  all  men  in  the  province, 
could  not  fail  to  establish  his  superior  ability  and 
matchless  skill. 

But,  a  few  hours  later,  M.  Galpin  looked  no  longer 
with  the  same  eye  upon  these  events.  Reflection  had 
come;  and  he  had  begun  to  doubt  his  ability,  and  to 
ask  himself,  if  he  had  not,  after  all,  acted  rashly.  If 
Jacques  was  guilty,  so  much  the  better.  He  was  sure, 
in  that  case,  immediately  after  the  verdict,  to  obtain 
brilliant  promotion.  Yes,  but  if  Jacques  should  be 
innocent?  When  that  thought  occurred  to  M.  Galpin 
for  the  first  time,  it  made  him  shiver  to  the  marrow 
of  his  bones.  Jacques  innocent! — that  was  his  own 
condemnation,  his  career  ended,  his  hopes  destroyed, 
his  prospects  ruined  forever.  Jacques  innocent ! — that 
was  certain  disgrace.  He  would  be  sent  away  from 
Sauveterre,  where  he  could  not  remain  after  such  a 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE     153 

scandal.  He  would  be  banished  to  some  out-of-the- 
way  village,  and  without  hope  of  promotion. 

In  vain  he  tried  to  reason  that  he  had  only  done 
his  duty.  People  would  answer,  if  they  condescended 
at  all  to  answer,  that  there  are  flagrant  blunders,  scan- 
dalous mistakes,  which  a  magistrate  must  not  com- 
mit ;  and  that  for  the  honor  of  justice,  and  in  the  in- 
terest of  the  law,  it  is  better,  under  certain  circum- 
stances, to  let  a  guilty  man  escape,  than  to  punish  an 
innocent  one. 

With  such  anxiety  on  his  mind,  the  most  cruel  that 
can  tear  the  heart  of  an  ambitious  man,  M.  Galpin 
found  his  pillow  stuffed  with  thorns.  He  had  been 
up  since  six  o'clock.  At  eleven,  he  had  sent  for  his 
clerk,  Mechinet;  and  they  had  gone  together  to  the 
jail  to  recommence  the  examination.  It  was  then 
that  the  jailer  had  handed  him  the  prisoner's  letter 
for  Dionysia.  It  was  a  short  note,  such  as  a  sensible 
man  would  write  who  knows  full  well  that  a  prisoner 
cannot  count  upon  the  secrecy  of  his  correspondence. 
It  was  not  even  sealed,  a  fact  which  M.  Blangin  had 
not  noticed. 

"  Dionysia,  my  darling,"  wrote  the  prisoner,  "  the 
thought  of  the  terrible  grief  I  cause  you  is  my  most 
cruel,  and  almost  my  only  sorrow.  Need  I  stoop  to  as- 
sure you  that  I  am  innocent?  I  am  sure  it  is  not 
needed.  I  am  the  victim  of  a  fatal  combination  of  cir- 
cumstances, which  could  not  but  mislead  justice.  But 
be  reassured,  be  hopeful.  When  the  time  comes,  I 
shall  be  able  to  set  matters  right.  JACQUES." 

"  Well,"  M.  Galpin  had  really  said  after  reading  this 
letter.     Nevertheless  it  had  stung  him  to  the  quick. 
"  What  assurance  !  "  he  had  said  to  himself. 
Still  he  had  regained  courage  while  ascending  the 


i54     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

steps  of  the  prison.  Jacques  had  evidently  not  thought 
it  likely  that  his  note  would  reach  its  destination  di- 
rectly, and  hence  it  might  be  fairly  presumed  that  he 
had  written  for  the  eyes  of  justice  as  well  as  for  his 
lady-love.  The  fact  that  the  letter  was  not  sealed  even, 
gave  some  weight  to  this  presumption. 

"  After  all,  we  shall  see,"  said  M.  Galpin,  while 
Blangin  was  unlocking  the  door. 

But  he  found  Jacques  as  calm  as  if  he  had  been  in 
his  chateau  at  Boiscoran,  haughty  and  even  scornful. 
It  was  impossible  to  get  any  thing  out  of  him.  When 
he  was  pressed,  he  became  obstinately  silent,  or  said 
that  he  needed  time  to  consider.  The  magistrate  had 
returned  home  more  troubled  than  ever.  The  position 
assumed  by  Jacques  puzzled  him.  Ah,  if  he  could 
have  retraced  his  steps ! 

But  it  was  too  late.  He  had  burnt  his  vessels,  and 
condemned  himself  to  go  on  to  the  end.  For  his 
own  safety,  for  his  future  life,  it  was  henceforth  nec- 
essary that  Jacques  de  Boiscoran  should  be  found 
guilty ;  that  he  should  be  tried  in  open  court,  and  there 
be  sentenced.  It  must  be.  It  was  a  question  of  life 
or  death  for  him. 

He  was  in  this  state  of  mind  when  the  two  Misses 
Lavarande  called  at  his  house,  and  asked  to  see  him. 
He  shook  himself;  and  in  an  instant  his  over-excited 
mind  presented  to  him  all  possible  contingencies. 
What  could  the  two  old  ladies  want  of  him  ? 

"  Show  them  in,"  he  said  at  last. 

They  came  in,  and  haughtily  declined  the  chairs 
that  were  offered. 

"  I  hardly  expected  to  have  the  honor  of  a  visit 
from  you,  ladies,"  he  commenced. 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     155 

The  older  of  the  two,  Miss  Adelaide,  cut  him  short, 
saying, — 

"  I  suppose  not,  after  what  has  passed." 

And  thereupon,  speaking  with  all  the  eloquence  of 
a  pious  woman  who  is  trying  to  wither  an  impious 
man,  she  poured  upon  him  a  stream  of  reproaches 
for  what  she  called  his  infamous  treachery.  What? 
How  could  he  appear  against  Jacques,  who  was  his 
friend,  and  who  had  actually  aided  him  in  obtaining 
the  promise  of  a  great  match.  By  that  one  hope  he 
had  become,  so  to  say,  a  member  of  the  family.  Did 
he  not  know  that  among  kinsmen  it  was  a  sacred  duty 
to  set  aside  all  personal  feelings  for  the  purpose  of 
protecting  that  sacred  patrimony  called  family  honor  ? 

M.  Galpin  felt  like  a  man  upon  whom  a  handful 
of  stones  falls  from  the  fifth  story  of  a  house.  Still 
he  preserved  his  self-control,  and  even  asked  himself 
what  advantage  he  might  obtain  from  this  extraordi- 
nary scene.  Might  it  open  a  door  for  reconciliation? 

As  soon,  therefore,  as  Miss  Adelaide  stopped,  he 
began  justifying  himself,  painting  in  hypocritical  col- 
ors the  grief  it  had  given  him,  swearing  that  he  was 
not  able  to  control  the  events,  and  that  Jacques  was 
as  dear  to  him  now  as  ever. 

"  If  he  is  so  dear  to  you,"  broke  in  Miss  Ade- 
laide, "  why  don't  you  set  him  free  ?  " 

"Ah!  how  can  I?" 

"  At  least  give  his  family  and  his  friends  leave  to 
see  him." 

"  The  law  will  not  let  me.  If  he  is  innocent,  he  has 
only  to  prove  it.  If  he  is  guilty,  he  must  confess.  In 
the  first  case,  he  will  be  set  free ;  in  the  other  case,  he 
can  see  whom  he  wishes." 


i56     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  If  he  is  so  dear  to  you,  how  could  you  dare  read 
the  letter  he  had  written  to  Dionysia  ?  " 

"  It  is  one  of  the  most  painful  duties  of  my  profes- 
sion to  do  so." 

"  Ah !  And  does  that  profession  also  prevent  you 
from  giving  us  that  letter  after  having  read  it  ?  " 

"  Yes.    But  I  may  tell  you  what  is  in  it." 

He  took  it  out  of  a  drawer ;  and  the  younger  of  the 
two  sisters,  Miss  Elizabeth,  copied  it  in  pencil.  Then 
they  withdrew,  almost  without  saying  good-by. 

M.  Galpin  was  furious.    He  exclaimed, — 

"  Ah,  old  witches !  I  see  clearly  you  do  not  believe 
in  Jacques's  innocence.  Why  else  should  his  family 
be  so  very  anxious  to  see  him?  No  doubt  they  want 
to  enable  him  to  escape  by  suicide  the  punishment  of 
his  crime.  But,  by  the  great  God,  that  shall  not  be, 
if  I  can  help  it !  " 

M.  Folgat  was,  as  we  have  seen,  excessively  an- 
noyed at  this  step  taken  by  the  Misses  Lavarande ;  but 
he  did  not  let  it  be  seen.  It  was  very  necessary  that 
he  at  least  should  retain  perfect  presence  of  mind  and 
calmness  in  this  cruelly  tried  family.  M.  de  Chandore, 
on  the  other  hand,  could  not  conceal  his  dissatisfaction 
so  well;  and,  in  spite  of  his  deference  to  his  grand- 
child's wishes,  he  said, — 

"  I  am  sure,  my  dear  child,  I  don't  wish  to  blame 
you.  But  you  know  your  aunts,  and  you  know,  also, 
how  uncompromising  they  are.  They  are  quite  capable 
of  exasperating  M.  Galpin." 

"  What  does  it  matter  ? "  asked  the  young  girl 
haughtily.  "  Circumspection  is  all  very  well  for  guilty 
people ;  but  Jacques  is  innocent." 

"  Miss  Chandore  is   right,"  said  M.   Folgat,  who 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE     157 

seemed  to  succumb  to  Dionysia  like  the  rest  of  the 
family.  "  Whatever  the  ladies  may  have  done,  they 
cannot  make  matters  worse.  M.  Galpin  will  be  none 
the  less  our  bitter  enemy." 

Grandpapa  Chandore  started.     He  said, — 

"  But '  — 

"  Oh !  I  do  not  blame  him,"  broke  in  the  young  law- 
yer ;  "  but  I  blame  the  laws  which  make  him  act  as 
he  does.  How  can  a  magistrate  remain  perfectly  im- 
partial in  certain  very  important  cases,  like  this  one, 
when  his  whole  future  career  depends  upon  his  suc- 
cess? A  man  may  be  a  most  upright  magistrate,  in- 
capable of  unfairness,  and  conscientious  in  fulfilling 
all  his  duties,  and  yet  he  is  but  a  man.  He  has  his 
interest  at  stake.  He  does  not  like  the  court  to  find 
that  there  is  no  case.  The  great  rewards  are  not  al- 
ways given  to  the  lawyer  who  has  taken  most  pains  to 
find  out  the  truth." 

"  But  M.  Galpin  was  a  friend  of  ours,  sir." 

"  Yes ;  and  that  is  what  makes  me  fear.  What  will 
be  his  fate  on  the  day  when  M.  Jacques's  innocence  is 
established  ?  " 

"  Well,  at  all  events,  we  shall  soon  know  what  the 
ladies  have  accomplished." 

They  were  just  coming  home,  quite  proud  of  their 
achievement,  and  waving  in  triumph  the  copy  of 
Jacques's  letter.  Dionysia  seized  upon  it;  and,  while 
she  read  it  aside,  Miss  Adelaide  described  the  inter- 
view, stating  how  haughty  and  disdainful  she  had 
been,  and  how  humble  and  repentant  M.  Galpin  had 
seemed  to  be.  \ 

"  He  was  completely  undone,"  said  the  two  old 
ladies  with  one  voice :  "  he  was  crushed,  annihilated." 


158     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Yes,  you  have  done  a  nice  thing,"  growled  the 
old  baron ;  "  and  you  have  much  reason  to  boast,  for- 
sooth." 

"  My  aunts  have  done  well,"  declared  Dionysia. 
"Just  see  what  Jacques  has  written!  It  it  clear  and 
precise.  What  can  we  fear  when  he  says,  '  Be  reas- 
sured: when  the  time  comes,  I  shall  be  able  to  set 
matters  right '  ?  " 

M.  Folgat  took  the  letter,  read  it,  and  shook  his 
head.  Then  he  said, — 

"  There  was  no  need  of  this  letter  to  confirm  my 
opinion.  At  the  bottom  of  this  affair  there  is  a  secret 
which  none  of  us  have  found  out  yet.  But  M.  de  Bois- 
coran  acts  very  rashly  in  playing  in  this  way  with 
a  criminal  prosecution.  Why  did  he  not  explain  at 
once  ?  What  was  easy  yesterday  may  be  less  easy  to- 
morrow, and  perhaps  impossible  in  a  week." 

"  Jacques,  sir,  is  a  superior  man,"  cried  Dionysia, 
"  and  whatever  he  says  is  perfectly  sure  to  be  the 
right  thing." 

His  mother's  entrance  prevented  the  young  lawyer 
from  making  any  reply.  Two  hours'  rest  had  restored 
to  the  old  lady  a  part  of  her  energy,  and  her  usual 
presence  of  mind ;  and  she  now  asked  that  a  telegram 
should  be  sent  to  her  husband. 

"  It  is  the  least  we  can  do,"  said  M.  de  Chandore  in 
an  undertone,  "  although  it  will  be  useless,  I  dare  say. 
Boiscoran  does  not  care  that  much  for  his  son. 
Pshaw !  Ah !  if  it  was  a  rare  faience,  or  a  plate  that 
is  wanting  in  his  collection,  then  would  it  be  a  very 
different  story." 

Still  the  despatch  was  drawn  up  and  sent,  at  the 
very  moment  when  a  servant  came  in,  and  announced 
that  dinner  was  ready.  The  meal  was  less  sad  than 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     159 

they  had  anticipated.  Everybody,  to  be  sure,  felt  a 
heaviness  at  heart  as  he  thought  that  at  the  same  hour 
a  jailer  probably  brought  Jacques  his  meal  to  his  cell; 
nor  could  Dionysia  keep  from  dropping  a  tear  when 
she  saw  M.  Folgat  sitting  in  her  lover's  place.  But 
no  one,  except  the  young  advocate,  thought  that 
Jacques  was  in  real  danger. 

M.  Seneschal,  however,  who  came  in  just  as  cof- 
fee was  handed  round,  evidently  shared  M.  Folgat's 
apprehensions.  The  good  mayor  came  to  hear  the 
news,  and  to  tell  his  friends  how  he  had  spent  the  day. 
The  funeral  of  the  firemen  had  passed  off  quietly,  al- 
though amid  deep  emotion.  No  disturbance  had  taken 
place,  as  was  feared;  and  Dr.  Seignebos  had  not 
spoken  at  the  graveyard.  Both  a  disturbance  and  a 
row  would  have  been  badly  received,  said  M.  Sene- 
schal; for  he  was  sorry  to  say,  the  immense  majority 
of  the  people  of  Sauveterre  did  not  doubt  M.  de  Bois- 
coran's  guilt.  In  several  groups  he  had  heard  people 
say,  "  And  still  you  will  see  they  will  not  condemn 
him.  A  poor  devil  who  should  commit  such  a  horri- 
ble crime  would  be  hanged  sure  enough;  but  the  son 
of  the  Marquis  de  Boiscoran — you  will  see,  he'll  come 
out  of  it  as  white  as  snow." 

The  rolling  of  a  cariage,  which  stopped  at  the  door, 
fortunately  interrupted  him  at  this  point. 

"  Who  can  that  be  ?  "  asked  Dionysia,  half  fright- 
ened. 

They  heard  in  the  passage  the  noise  of  steps  and 
voices,  something  like  a  scuffle;  and  almost  instantly 
the  tenant's  son  Michael  pushed  open  the  door  of  the 
sitting-room,  crying  out, — 

"  I  have  gotten  him  !    Here  he  is  !  " 

And  with  these  words  he  pushed  in  Cocoleu,  all 


160     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

struggling,  and  looking  around  him,  like  a  wild  beast 
caught  in  a  trap. 

"  Upon  my  word,  my  good  fellow,"  said  M.  Sene- 
schal, "  you  have  done  better  than  the  gendarmes  !  " 

The  manner  in  which  Michael  winked  with  his  eye 
showed  that  he  had  not  a  very  exalted  opinion  of. 
the  cleverness  of  the  gendarmes. 

"  I  promised  the  baron,"  he  said,  "  I  would  get  hold 
of  Cocoleu  somehow  or  other.  I  knew  that  at  certain 
times  he  went  and  buried  himself,  like  the  wild  beast 
that  he  is,  in  a  hole  which  he  has  scratched  under  a 
rock  in  the  densest  part  of  the  forest  of  Rochepom- 
mier.  I  had  discovered  this  den  of  his  one  day  by 
acident;  for  a  man  might  pass  by  a  hundred  times, 
and  never  dream  of  where  it  was.  But,  as  soon  as 
the  baron  told  me  that  the  innocent  had  disappeared, 
I  said  to  myself,  '  I  am  sure  he  is  in  his  hole :  let  us  go 
and  see.'  So  I  gathered  up  my  legs ;  I  ran  down  to  the 
rocks:  and  there  was  Cocoleu.  But  it  was  not  so 
easy  to  pull  him  out  of  his  den.  He  would  not  come ; 
and,  while  defending  himself,  he  bit  me  in  the  hand, 
like  the  mad  dog  that  he  is." 

And  Michael  held  up  his  left  hand,  wrapped  up  in 
a  bloody  piece  of  linen. 

"  It  was  pretty  hard  work  to  get  the  madman  here. 
I  was  compelled  to  tie  -him  hand  and  foot,  and  to  carry 
him  bodily  to  my  father's  house.  There  we  put  him 
into  the  little  carriage,  and  here  he  is.  Just  look  at 
the  pretty  fellow ! " 

He  was  hideous  at  that  moment,  with  his  livid  face 
spotted  all  over  with  red  marks,  his  hanging  lips  cov- 
ered with  white  foam,  and  his  brutish  glances. 

"  Why  would  you  not  come  ?  "  asked  M.  Seneschal. 

The  idiot  looked  as  if  he  did  not  hear. 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     161 

"Why  did  you  bite  Michael?"  continued  the 
mayor. 

Cocoleu  made  no  reply. 

"  Do  you  know  that  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  in  prison 
because  of  what  you  have  said?" 

Still  no  reply. 

"  'Ah ! "  said  Michael,  "  it  is  of  no  use  to  question 
him.  You  might  beat  him  till  to-morrow,  and  he 
would  rather  give  up  the  ghost  than  say  a  word." 

"  I  am — I  am  hungry,"  stammered  Cocoleu. 

M.   Folgat  looked  indignant. 

"  And  to  think,"  he  said,  "  that,  upon  the  testimony 
of  such  a  being,  a  capital  charge  has  been  made ! " 

Grandpapa  Chandore  seemed  to  be  seriously  em- 
barrassed. He  said,^- 

"  But  now,  what  in  the  world  are  we  to  do  with 
the  idiot?" 

"  I  am  going  to  take  him,"  said  M.  Seneschal,  "  to 
the  hospital.  I  will  go  with  him  myself,  and  let  Dr. 
Seignebos  know,  and  the  commonwealth  attorney." 

Dr.  Seignebos  was  an  eccentric  man,  beyond  doubt; 
and  the  absurd  stories  which  his  enemies  attributed  to 
him  were  not  all  unfounded.  But  he  had,  at  all  events, 
the  rare  quality  of  professing  for  his  art,  as  he  called 
it,  a  respect  very  nearly  akin  to  enthusiasm.  Accord- 
ing to  his  views,  the  faculty  were  infallible,  as  much 
so  as  the  pope,  whom  he  denied.  He  would,  to  be  sure, 
in  confidence,  admit  that  some  of  his  colleagues  were 
amazing  donkeys ;  but  he  would  never  have  allowed 
any  one  else  to  say  so  in  his  presence.  From  the  mo- 
ment that  a  man  possessed  the  famous  diploma  which 
gives  him  the  right  over  life  and  death,  that  man  be- 
came in  his  eyes  an  august  personage  for  the  world 
at  large.  It  was  a  crime,  he  thought,  not  to  submit 


i62     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

blindly  to  the  decision  of  a  physician.  Hence  his  ob- 
stinacy in  opposing  M.  Galpin;  hence  the  bitterness 
of  his  contradictions,  and  the  rudeness  with  which  he 
had  requested  the  "  gentlemen  of  the  law  "  to  leave 
the  room  in  which  his  patient  was  lying. 

"  For  these  devils,"  he  said,  "  would  kill  one  man 
in  order  to  get  the  means  of  cutting  off  another  man's 
head." 

And  thereupon,  resuming  his  probes  and  his  sponge, 
he  had  gone  to  work  once  more,  with  the  aid  of  the 
countess,  digging  out  grain  by  grain  the  lead  which 
had  honeycombed  the  flesh  of  the  count.  At  nine 
o'clock  the  work  was  done. 

"  Not  that  I  fancy  I  have  gotten  them  all  out,"  he 
said  modestly,  "  but,  if  there  is  any  thing  left,  it  is  out 
of  reach,  and  I  shall  have  to  wait  for  certain  symp- 
toms which  will  tell  me  where  they  are." 

As  he  had  foreseen,  the  count  had  grown  rather 
worse.  His  first  excitement  had  given  way  to  perfect 
prostration;  and  he  seemed  to  be  insensible  to  what 
was  going  on  around  him.  Fever  began  to  show  it- 
self; and,  considering  the  count's  constitution,  it  was 
easily  to  be  foreseen  that  delirium  would  set  in  be- 
fore the  day  was  out. 

"  Nevertheless,  I  think  there  is  hardly  any  danger," 
said  the  doctor  to  the  countess,  after  having  pointed 
out  to  her  all  the  probable  symptoms,  so  as  to  keep 
her  from  being  alarmed.  Then  he  recommended  to 
her  to  let  no  one  approach  her  husband's  bed,  and  M. 
Galpin  least  of  all. 

This  recommendation  was  not  useless;  for  almost 
at  the  same  moment  a  peasant  came  in  to  say  that 
there  was  a  man  from  Sauveterre  at  the  door,  who 
wished  to  see  the  count. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     163 

"  Show  him  in,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  I'll  speak  to 
him." 

It  was  a  man  called  Tetard,  a  former  constable,  who 
had  given  up  his  place,  and  become  a  dealer  in  stones. 
But  besides  being  a  former  officer  of  justice  and  a 
merchant,  as  his  cards  told  the  world,  he  was  also  the 
agent  of  a  fire  insurance  company.  It  was  in  this 
capacity  that  he  presumed,  as  he  told  the  countess,  to 
present  himself  in  person.  He  had  been  informed 
that  the  farm  buildings  at  Valpinson,  which  were 
insured  in  his  company,  had  been  destroyed  by  fire; 
that  they  had  been  purposely  set  on  fire  by  M.  de  Bois- 
coran ;  and  that  he  wished  to  confer  with  Count  Clau- 
dieuse  on  the  subject.  Far  from  him,  he  added,  to  de- 
cline the  responsibility  of  his  company :  he  only  wished 
to  establish  the  facts  which  would  enable  him  to  fall 
back  upon  M.  de  Boiscoran,  who  was  a  man  of  for- 
tune, and  would  certainly  be  condemned  to  make  com- 
pensation for  the  injury  done.  For  this  purpose,  cer- 
tain formalities  had  to  be  attended  to;  and  he  had 
come  to  arrange  with  Count  Claudieuse  the  necessary 
measures." 

"  And  I,"  said  Dr.  Seignebos, — "  I  request  you  to 
take  to  your  heels."  He  added  with  a  thundering 
voice, — 

"  I  think  you  are  very  bold  to  dare  to  speak  in  that 
way  of  M.  de  Boiscoran." 

M.  Tetard  disappeared  without  saying  another 
word ;  and  the  doctor,  very  much  excited  by  this  scene, 
turned  to  the  youngest  daughter  of  the  countess,  the 
one  with  whom  she  was  sitting  up  when  the  fire  broke 
out,  and  who  was  now  decidedly  better :  after  that 
nothing  could  keep  him  at  Valpinson.  He  carefully 
pocketed  the  pieces  of  lead  which  he  had  taken  from 


i64     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

the  count's  wounds,  and  then,  drawing  the  countess 
out  to  the  door,  he  said, — 

"  Before  I  go  away,  madam,  I  should  like  to  know 
what  you  think  of  these  events." 

The  poor  lady,  who  looked  as  pale  as  death  itself, 
could  hardly  hold  up  any  longer.  There  seemed  to 
be  nothing  alive  in  her  but  her  eyes,  which  were 
lighted  up  with  unusual  brilliancy. 

"  Ah !  I  do  not  know,  sir,"  she  replied  in  a  feeble 
voice.  "  How  can  I  collect  my  thoughts  after  such 
terrible  shocks?" 

"  Still  you  questioned  Cocoleu." 

"  Who  would  not  have  done  so,  when  the  truth 
was  at  stake  ?  " 

"  And  you  were  not  surprised  at  the  name  he  men- 
tioned?" 

"  You  must  have  seen,  sir." 

"  I  saw ;  and  that  is  exactly  why  I  ask  you,  and 
why  I  want  to  know  what  you  really  think  of  the 
state  of  mind  of  the  poor  creature." 

"  Don't  you  know  that  he  is  idiotic  ?  " 

"  I  know ;  and  that  is  why  I  was  so  surprised  to  see 
you  insist  upon  making  him  talk.  Do  you  really  think, 
that,  in  spite  of  his  habitual  imbecility,  he  may  have 
glimpses  of  sense?" 

"  He  had,  a  few  moments  before,  saved  my  chil- 
dren from  death." 

"  That  proves  his  devotion  for  you." 

"  He  is  very  much  attached  to  me  indeed,  just  like 
a  poor  animal  that  I  might  have  picked  up  and  cared 
for." 

"  Perhaps  so.  And  still  he  showed  more  than  mere 
animal  instinct." 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE     165 

"  That  may  well  be  so.  I  have  more  than  once 
noticed  flashes  of  intelligence  in  Cocoleu." 

The  doctor  had  taken  off  his  spectacles,  and  was 
wiping  them  furiously. 

"  It  is  a  great  pity  that  one  of  these  flashes  of  in- 
telligence did  not  enlighten  him  when  he  saw  M.  de 
Boiscoran  make  a  fire  and  get  ready  to  murder  Count 
Claudieuse." 

The  countess  leaned  against  the  door-posts,  as  if 
about  to  faint. 

"  But  it  is  exactly  to  his  excitement  at  the  sight  of 
the  flames,  and  at  hearing  the  shots  fired,  that  I  as- 
cribe Cocoleu's  return  to  reason." 

"  May  be,"  said  the  doctor,  "  may  be." 

Then  putting  on  his  spectacles  again,  he  added, — 

"  That  is  a  question  to  be  decided  by  the  profes- 
sional men  who  will  have  the  examine  the  poor  im- 
becile creature." 

"  What !     Is  he  going  to  be  examined  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  very  thoroughly,  madam,  I  tell  you.  And 
now  I  have  the  honor  of  wishing  you  good-by.  How- 
ever, I  shall  come  back  to-night,  unless  you  should 
succeed  during  the  day  in  finding  lodgings  in  Sauve- 
terre, — an  arrangement  which  would  be  very  desirable 
for  myself,  in  the  first  place,  and  not  less  so  for  your 
husband  and  your  daughter.  They  are  not  comfort- 
able in  this  cottage." 

Thereupon  he  lifted  his  hat,  returned  to  town,  and 
immediately  asked  M.  Seneschal  in  the  most  imperi- 
ous manner  to  have  Cocoleu  arrested.  Unfortunately 
the  gendarmes  had  been  unsuccessful ;  and  Dr.  Siegne- 
bos,  who  saw  how  unfortunate  all  this  was  for 
Jacques,  began  to  get  terribly  impatient,  when  on  Sat- 


i66     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

urday  night,  towards  ten  o'clock,  M.  Seneschal  came 
in,  and  said, — 

''  Cocoleu  is  found." 

The  doctor  jumped  up,  and  in  a  moment  his  hat  on 
his  head,  and  stick  in  hand,  asked, — 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  At  the  hospital.  I  have  seen  him  myself  put  into 
a  separate  room." 

"  I  am  going  there." 

"What,  at  this  hour?" 

"  Am  I  not  one  of  the  hospital  physicians  ?  and  is 
it  not  open  to  me  by  night  and  by  day  ?  " 

"  The  sisters  will  be  in  bed." 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders  furiously ;  then 
he  said, — 

"  To  be  sure,  it  would  be  sacrilege  to  break  the 
slumbers  of  these  good  sisters,  these  dear  sisters,  as 
you  say.  Ah,  my  dear  mayor!  when  shall  we  have 
laymen  for  our  hospitals  ?  and  when  will  you  put  good 
stout  nurses  in  the  place  of  these  holy  damsels  ?  " 

M.  Seneschal  had  too  often  discussed  that  subject 
with  the  doctor,  to  open  it  anew.  He  kept  silent,  and 
that  was  wise;  for  Dr.  Seignebos  sat  down,  saying, — 

"  Well,  I  must  wait  till  to-morrow." 


VI. 

"  THE  hospital  in  Sauveterre,"  says  the  guide  book, 
"  is,  in  spite  of  its  limited  size,  one  of  the  best  institu- 
tions of  the  kind  in  the  department.  The  chapel  and 
the  new  additions  were  built  at  the  expense  of  the 
Countess  de  Maupaison,  the  widow  of  one  of  the 
ministers  of  Louis  Philippe." 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     167 

But  what  the  guide  book  does  not  say  is,  that  the 
hospital  was  endowed  with  three  free  beds  for  preg- 
nant women,  by  Mrs.  Seneschal,  nor  that  the  two 
wings  on  both  sides  of  the  great  entrance-gate  have 
also  been  built  by  her  liberality.  One  of  these  wings, 
the  one  on  the  right,  is  used  by  the  janitor,  a  fine- 
looking  old  man,  who  formerly  was  beadle  at  the  ca- 
thedral, and  who  loves  to  think  of  the  happy  days 
when  he  added  to  the  splendor  of  the  church  by  his 
magnificent  presence,  his  red  uniform,  his  gold  ban- 
delaire,  his  halbert,  and  his  gold-headed  cane. 

This  janitor  was,  on  Sunday  morning,  a  little  be- 
fore eight  o'clock,  smoking  his  pipe  in  the  yard,  when 
he  saw  Dr.  Seignebos  coming  in.  The  doctor  was 
walking  faster  than  usual,  his  hat  over  his  face,  and 
his  hands  thrust  deep  into  his  pockets,  evident  signs 
of  a  storm.  Instead  of  coming,  as  he  did  every  day. 
before  making  the  rounds,  into  the  office  of  the  sister- 
druggist,  he  went  straight  up  to  the  room  of  the  lady 
superior.  There,  after  the  usual  salutations,  he  said, — 

"  They  have  no  doubt  brought  you,  my  sister,  last 
night,  a  patient,  an  idiot,  called  Cocoleu  ?  " 

"  Yes,  doctor." 

"  Where  has  he  been  put  ?  " 

"  The  mayor  saw  him  himself  put  into  the  little 
room  opposite  the  linen  room." 

"  And  how  did  he  behave  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  well :  the  sister  who  kept  the  watch 
did  not  hear  him  stir." 

"  Thanks,  my  sister !  "  said  Dr.  Seignebos. 

He  was  already  in  the  door,  when  the  lady  superior 
recalled  him. 

"Are  you  going  up  to  see  the  poor  man,  doctor?" 
she  asked. 


i68     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Yes,  my  sister :  why  ?  " 

"  Because  you  cannot  see  him." 

"I  cannot?" 

"  No.  The  commonwealth  attorney  has  sent  us  or- 
ders not  to  let  any  one,  except  the  sister  who  nurses 
him,  come  near  Cocoleu, — no  one,  doctor,  not  even  the 
physician,  a  case  of  urgency,  of  course,  excepted. 

Dr.  Siegnebos  smiled  ironically.  Then  he  said, 
laughing  scornfully, — • 

"  Ah,  these  are  your  orders,  are  they  ?  Well,  I  tell 
you  that  I  do  not  mind  them  in  the  least.  Who  can 
prevent  me  from  seeing  my  patient  ?  Tell  me  that ! 
Let  the  commonwealth  attorney  give  his  orders  in 
his  court-house  as  much  as  he  chooses:  that  is  all 
right.  But  in  my  hospital !  My  sister,  I  am  going  to 
Cocoleu's  room." 

"  Doctor,  you  cannot  go  there.  There  is  a  gendarme 
at  the  door." 

"A  gendarme?" 

"  Yes,  he  came  this  morning  with  the  strictest  or- 
ders." 

For  a  moment  the  doctor  was  overcome.  Then  he 
suddenly  broke  out  with  unusual  violence,  and  a  voice 
that  made  the  windows  shake, — 

"  This  is  unheard  of !  This  is  an  abominable  abuse 
of  power !  And  by  the  hundred  thousand  thunders  of 
heaven,  I'll  have  my  rights,  and  justice  shall  be  done 
me,  if  I  have  to  go  to  Thiers ! " 

Then  he  rushed  out  without  ceremony,  crossed  the 
yard,  and  disappeared  like  an  arrow,  in  the  direction 
of  the  court-house.  At  that  very  moment  M.  Daubi- 
geon  was  getting  up,  feeling  badly  because  he  had 
had  a  bad,  sleepless  night,  thanks  to  this  unfortunate 
affair  of  M.  de  Boiscoran,  which  troubled  him  sorely ; 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     169 

for  he  was  almost  of  M.  Galpin's  opinion.  In  vain  he 
recalled  Jacques's  noble  character,  his  well-known  up- 
rightness, his  keen  sense  of  honor,  the  evidence  was 
so  strong,  so  overwhelming!  He  wanted  to  doubt; 
but  experience  told  him  that  a  man's  past  is  no  guar- 
anty for  his  future.  And,  besides,  like  many  great 
criminal  lawyers,  he  thought,  what  he  would  never 
have  ventured  to  say  openly,  that  some  great  criminals 
act  while  they  are  under  the  influence  of  a  kind  of 
vertigo,  and  that  this  explains  the  stupidity  of  certain 
crimes  committed  by  men  of  superior  intelligence. 

Since  his  return  from  Boiscoran,  he  had  kept  close 
in  his  house;  and  he  had  just  made  up  his  mind  not 
to  leave  the  house  that  day,  when  some  one  rang  his 
bell  furiously.  A  moment  later  Dr.  Seignebos  fell  into 
the  room  like  a  bombshell. 

"  I  know  what  brings  you,  doctor,"  said  M.  Daubi- 
geon.  "  You  come  about  that  order  I  have  given  con- 
cerning Cocoleu." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  sir !    That  order  is  an  insult." 

"  I  have  been  asked  to  give  it  as  a  matter  of  neces- 
sity, by  M.  Galpin." 

"  And  why  did  you  not  refuse  ?  You  alone  are  re- 
sponsible for  it  in  my  eyes.  You  are  commonwealth 
attorney,  consequently  the  head  of  the  bar,  and  su- 
perior to  M.  Galpin." 

M.  Daubigeon  shook  his  head  and  said, — 

"  There  you  are  mistaken,  doctor.  The  magistrate 
in  such  a  case  is  independent  of  myself  and  of  the 
court.  He  is  not  even  bound  to  obey  the  attorney- 
general,  who  can  make  suggestions  to  him,  but  can- 
not give  him  orders.  M.  Galpin,  in  his  capacity  as 
examining  magistrate,  has  his  independent  jurisdic- 
tion, and  is  armed  with  almost  unlimited  power.  No 


iyo     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

one  in  the  world  can  say  so  well  as  an  examining  mag- 
istrate what  the  poet  calls, — 

'  Such  is  my  will,  such  are  my  orders,  and  my  will  is  sufficient* 
'Hoc  volo,  hoc  jubeo,  sit  pro  ratione  voluntas.'" 

For  once  Dr.  Seignebos  seemed  to  be  convinced  by 
M.  Daubigeon's  words.  He  said, — 

"  Then,  M.  Galpin  has  even  the  right  to  deprive  a 
sick  man  of  his  physician's  assistance." 

"  If  he  assumes  the  responsibility,  yes.  But  he  does 
not  mean  to  go  so  far.  He  was,  on  the  contrary,  about 
to  ask  you,  although  it  is  Sunday,  to  come  and  be 
present  at  a  second  examination  of  Cocoleu.  I  am 
surprised  that  you  have  not  received  his  note,  and  that 
you  did  not  meet  him  at  the  hospital." 

"  Well,  I  am  going  at  once." 

And  he  went  back  hurriedly,  and  was  glad  he  had 
done  so;  for  at  the  door  of  the  hospital  lie  came  face 
to  face  against  M.  Galpin,  who  was  just  coming  in, 
accompanied  by  his  faithful  clerk,  Mcchinet. 

"  You  come  just  in  time,  doctor,"  began  the  magis- 
trate, with  his  usual  solemnity. 

But,  short  and  rapid  as  the  doctor's  walk  had  been, 
it  had  given  him  time  to  reflect,  and  to  grow  cool. 
Instead  of  breaking  out  into  recriminations,  he  replied 
in  a  tone  of  mock  politeness, — 

"  Yes,  I  know.  It  is  that  poor  devil  to  whom  you 
have  given  a  gendarme  for  a  nurse.  Let  us  go  up  :  I 
am  at  your  service." 

The  room  in  which  Cocoleu  had  been  put  was  large, 
whitewashed,  and  empty,  exept  that  a  bed,  a  table, 
and  two  chairs,  stood  about.  The  bed  was  no  doubt  a 
good  one ;  but  the  idiot  had  taken  off  the  mattress  and 


WITHIN    AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     171 

the  blankets,  and  lain  down  in  his  clothes  on  the  straw 
bed.  Thus  the  magistrate  and  the  physician  found  him 
as  they  entered.  He  rose  at  their  appearance;  but, 
when  he  saw  the  gendarme,  he  uttered  a  cry,  and 
tried  to  hide  under  the  bed.  M.  Galpin  ordered  the 
gendarme  to  pull  him  out  again.  Then  he  walked  up 
to  him,  and  said, — 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  Cocoleu.  We  want  to  do  you  no 
harm ;  only  you  must  answer  our  questions.  Do  you 
recollect  what  happened  the  other  night  at  Valpin- 
son  ?  " 

Cocoleu  laughed, — the  laugh  of  an  idiot, — but  he 
made  no  reply.  And  then,  for  a  whole  hour,  begging, 
threatening,  and  promising  by  turns,  the  magistrate 
tried  in  vain  to  obtain  one  word  from  him.  Not  even 
the  name  of  the  Countess  Claudieuse  had  the  slightest 
effect.  At  last,  utterly  out  of  patience,  he  said, — 

"  Let  us  go.    The  wretch  is  worse  than  a  brute." 

"  Was  he  any  better,"  asked  the  doctor,  "  when  he 
denounced  M.  de  Boiscoran?" 

But  the  magistrate  pretended  not  to  hear ;  and,  when 
they  were  about  to  leave  the  room,  he  said  to  the 
doctor, — 

"  You  know  that  I  expect  your  report,  doctor  ?  " 

"In  forty-eight  hours  I  shall  have  the  honor  to 
hand  it  to  you,"  replied  the  latter. 

But  as  he  went  off,  he  said  half  aloud, — 

"  And  that  report  is  going  to  give  you  some  trouble, 
my  good  man." 

The  report  was  ready  then,  and  his  reason  for  not 
giving  it  in,  was  that  he  thought,  the  longer  he  could 
delay  it,  the  more  chance  he  would  probably  have  to 
defeat  the  plan  of  the  prosecution. 

"  As  I  mean  to  keep  it  two  days  longer,"  he  thought 


172     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

on  his  way  home,  "  why  should  I  not  show  it  to  this 
Paris  lawyer  who  has  come  down  with  the  marchion- 
ess? Nothing  can  prevent  me,  as  far  as  I  see,  since 
that  poor  Galpin,  in  his  utter  confusion,  has  forgotten 
to  put  me  under  oath." 

But  he  paused.  According  to  the  laws  of  medical 
jurisprudence,  had  he  the  right,  or  not,  to  communi- 
cate a  paper  belonging  to  the  case  to  the  counsel  of 
the  accused?  This  question  troubled  him;  for,  al- 
though he  boasted  that  he  did  not  believe  in  God,  he 
believed  firmly  in  professional  duty,  and  would  have 
allowed  himself  to  be  cut  to  pieces  rather  than  break 
its  laws. 

"  But  I  have  clearly  the  right  to  do  so,"  he  growled. 
"  I  can  only  be  bound  by  my  oath.  The  authorities 
are  clear  on  that  subject.  I  have  in  my  favor  the 
decisions  of  the  Court  of  Appeals  of  27  November, 
and  27  December,  1828;  those  of  the  I3th  June,  1835; 
of  the  3d  May,  1844 ;  of  the  26th  June,  1866." 

The  result  of  this  meditation  was,  that,  as  soon 
as  he  had  breakfasted,  he  put  his  report  in  his  pocket, 
and  went  by  side  streets  to  M.  de  Chandore's  house. 
The  marchioness  and  the  two  aunts  were  still  at 
church,  where  they  had  thought  it  best  to  show  them- 
selves; and  there  was  no  one  in  the  sitting-room  but 
Dionysia,  the  old  baron,  and  M.  Folgat.  The  old  gen- 
tleman was  very  much  surprised  to  see  the  doctor. 
The  latter  was  his  family  physician,  it  is  true;  but, 
except  in  cases  of  sickness,  the  two  never  saw  each 
other,  their  political  opinions  were  so  very  different. 

"  If  you  see  me  here,"  said  the  physician,  still  in 
the  door,  "  it  is  simply  because,  upon  my  honor  and 
my  conscience,  I  believe  M.  Boiscoran  is  innocent." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     173 

Dionysia  would  have  liked  to  embrace  the  doctor 
for  these  words  of  his ;  and  with  the  greatest  eager- 
ness she  pushed  a  large  easy-chair  towards  him,  and 
said  in  her  sweetest  voice, — 

"  Pray  sit  down,  my  dear  doctor." 

"  Thanks,"  he  answered  bruskly.  "  I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you."  Then  turning  to  M.  Folgat,  he  said, 
according  to  his  odd  notion, — 

"  I  am  convinced  that  M.  Boiscoran  is  the  victim 
of  his  republican  opinions  which  he  has  so  boldly  pro- 
fessed; for,  baron,  your  future  son-in-law  is  a  repub- 
lican." 

Grandpapa  Chandore  did  not  move.  If  they  had 
come  and  told  him  that  Jacques  had  been  a  member 
of  the  Commune,  he  would  not  have  been  any  more 
moved.  Dionysia  loved  Jacques.  That  was  enough 
for  him. 

"  Well,"  the  doctor  went  on,  "  I  am  a  Radical,  I, 
M.  "— • 

"  Folgat,"  supplied  the  young  lawyer. 

"  Yes,  M.  Folgat,  I  am  a  Radical ;  and  it  is  my  duty 
to  defend  a  man  whose  political  opinions  so  closely  re- 
semble mine.  I  come,  therefore,  to  show  you  my  medi- 
cal report,  if  you  can  make  any  use  of  it  in  your 
defence  of  M.  Boiscoran,  or  suggest  to  me  any  ideas." 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  man.  "  That  is  a  very 
valuable  service." 

"  But  let  us  understand  each  other,"  said  the  phy- 
sician earnestly.  "  If  I  speak  of  listening  to  your  sug- 
gestions, I  take  it  for  granted  that  they  are  based  upon 
facts.  If  I  had  a  son,  and  he  was  to  die  on  the  scaf- 
fold, I  would  not  use  the  slightest  falsehood  to  save 
him." 


i74     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

He  had,  meanwhile,  drawn  the  report  from  a  pocket 
in  his  long  coat,  and  now  put  it  on  the  table  with  these 
words, — 

"  I  shall  call  for  it  again  to-morrow  morning.  In 
the  meantime  you  can  think  it  over.  I  should  like, 
however,  to  point  out  to  you  the  main  point,  the  culmi- 
nating point,  if  I  may  say  so." 

At  all  events  he  was  "  saying  so  "  with  much  hesita- 
tion, and  looking  fixedly  at  Dionysia,  as  if  to  make 
her  understand  that  he  would  like  her  to  leave  the 
room.  Seeing  that  she  did  not  take  the  hint,  he 
added, — 

"  A  medical  and  legal  discussion  would  hardly  in- 
terest the  young  lady." 

"  Why,  sir,  why,  should  I  not  be  deeply,  passion- 
ately, interested  in  any  thing  that  regards  the  man 
who  is  to  be  my  husband?" 

"  Because  ladies  are  generally  very  sensational," 
said  the  doctor  uncivilly,  "  very  sensitive." 

"  Don't  think  so,  doctor.  For  Jacques's  sake,  I 
promise  you  I  will  show  you  quite  masculine 
energy." 

The  doctor  knew  Dionysia  well  enough  to  see  that 
she  did  not  mean  to  go :  so  he  growled, — 

"  As  you  like  it." 

Then,  turning  again  to  M.  Folgat,  he  said, — 

"  You  know  there  were  two  shots  fired  at  Count 
Claudieuse.  One,  which  hit  him  in  the  side,  nearly 
missed  him ;  the  other,  which  struck  his  shoulder  and 
his  neck,  hit  well." 

"  I  know,"  said  the  advocate. 

"The  difference  in  the  effect  shows  that  the  two 
shots  were  fired  from  different  distances,  the  second 
much  nearer  than  the  first." 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF  HIS   LIFE     175 

"  I  know,  I  know !  " 

"  Excuse  me.  If  I  refer  to  these  details,  it  is  be- 
cause they  are  important.  When  I  was  sent  for  in  the 
middle  of  the  night  to  come  and  see  Count  Claudieuse, 
I  at  once  set  to  work  extracting  the  particles  of  lead 
that  had  lodged  in  his  flesh.  While  I  was  thus  busy, 
M.  Galpin  arrived.  I  expected  he  would  ask  me  to 
show  him  the  shot:  but  no,  he  did  not  think  of  it; 
he  was  too  full  of  his  own  ideas.  He  thought  only  of 
the  culprit,  of  his  culprit.  I  did  not  recall  to  him  the 
A  B  C  of  his  profession :  that  was  none  of  my  business. 
The  physician  has  to  obey  the  directions  of  justice, 
but  not  to  anticipate  them." 

"Well,  then?" 

"  Then  M.  Galpin  went  off  to  Boiscoran,  and  I  com- 
pleted my  work.  I  have  extracted  fifty-seven  shot 
from  the  count's  wound  in  the  side,  and  a  hundred 
and  nine  from  the  wound  on  the  shoulder  and  the 
neck ;  and,  when  I  had  done  that,  do  you  know  what  I 
found  out  ?  " 

He  paused,  waiting  to  see  the  effect  of  his  words; 
and,  when  everybody's  attention  seemed  to  him  fully 
roused,  he  went  on, — 

"  I  found  out  that  the  shot  in  the  two  wounds  was 
not  alike." 

M.  de  Chandore  and  M.  Folgat  exclaimed  at  one 
time, — 

"  Oh ! " 

"  The  shot  that  was  first  fired,"  continued  Dr.  Sei- 
gnebos,  "  and  which  has  touched  the  side,  is  the  very 
smallest  sized  '  dust.'  That  in  the  shoulder,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  quite  large  sized,  such  as  I  think  is 
used  in  shooting  hares.  However,  I  have  some 
samples." 


176     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

And  with  these  words,  he  opened  a  piece  of  white 
paper,  in  which  were  ten  or  twelve  pieces  of  lead, 
stained  with  coagulated  blood,  and  showing  at  once 
a  considerable  difference  in  size.  M.  Folgat  looked 
puzzled. 

"  Could  there  have  been  two  murderers  ?  "  he  asked 
half  aloud. 

"  I  rather  think,"  said  M.  de  Chandore,  "  that  the 
murderer  had,  like  many  sportsmen,  one  barrel  ready 
for  birds,  and  another  for  hares  or  rabbits." 

"  At  all  events,  this  fact  puts  all  premeditation  out 
of  question.  A  man  does  not  load  his  gun  with  small- 
shot  in  order  to  commit  murder." 

Dr.  Siegnebos  thought  he  had  said  enough  about  it, 
and  was  rising  to  take  leave,  when  M.  de  Chandore 
asked  him  how  Count  Claudieuse  was  doing. 

"  He  is  not  doing  well,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  The 
removal,  in  spite  of  all  possible  precautions,  has  worn 
him  out  completely ;  for  he  is  here  in  Sauveterre  since 
yesterday,  in  a  house  which  M.  Seneschal  has  rented 
for  him  provisionally.  He  has  been  delirious  all  night 
through;  and,  when  I  came  to  see  him  this  morning, 
I  do  not  think  he  knew  me." 

"  And  the  countess  ?  "  asked  Dionysia. 

"  The  countess,  madam,  is  quite  as  sick  as  her  hus- 
band, and,  if  she  had  listened  to  me,  she  would  have 
gone  to  bed,  too.  But  she  is  a  woman  of  uncommon 
energy,  who  derives  from  her  affection  for  her  hus- 
band an  almost  incomprehensible  power  of  resistance. 
As  to  Cocoleu,"  he  added,  standing  already  near  the 
door,  "  an  examination  of  his  mental  condition  might 
produce  results  which  no  one  seems  to  expect  now. 
But  we  will  talk  of  that  hereafter.  And  now,  I  must 
bid  you  all  good-by." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     177 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  Dionysia  and  M.  de  Chandore,  as 
soon  as  they  had  heard  the  street  door  close  behind 
Dr.  Seignebos. 

But  M.  Folgat's  enthusiasm  had  cooled  off  very 
rapidly. 

"  Before  giving  an  opinion,"  he  said  cautiously,  "  I 
must  study  the  report  of  this  estimable  doctor." 

Unfortunately,  the  report  contained  nothing  that  the 
doctor  had  not  mentioned.  In  vain  did  the  young 
advocate  try  all  the  afternoon  to  find  something  in  it 
that  might  be  useful  for  the  defence.  There  were  ar- 
guments in  it,  to  be  sure,  which  might  be  very  valu- 
able when  the  trial  should  come  on,  but  nothing  that 
could  be  used  to  make  the  prosecution  give  up  the 
case. 

The  whole  house  was,  therefore,  cruelly  disap- 
pointed and  dejected,  when,  about  five  o'clock,  old  An- 
thony came  in  from  Boiscoran.  He  looked  very  sad, 
and  said, — 

"  I  have  been  relieved  of  my  duties.  At  two  o'clock 
M.  Galpin  came  to  take  off  the  seals.  He  was  accom- 
panied by  his  clerk  Mechinet,  and  brought  Master 
Jacques  with  him,  who  was  guarded  by  two  gendarmes 
in  citizen's  clothes.  When  the  room  was  opened,  that 
unlucky  man  Galpin  asked  Master  Jacques  if  those 
were  the  clothes  which  he  wore  the  night  of  the  fire, 
his  boots,  his  gun,  and  the  water  in  which  he  washed 
his  hands.  When  he  had  acknowledged  every  thing, 
the  water  was  carefully  poured  into  a  bottle,  which 
they  sealed,  and  handed  to  one  of  the  gendarmes.  Then 
they  put  master's  clothes  in  a  large  trunk,  his  gunr 
several  parcels  of  cartridge,  and  some  other  articles, 
which  the  magistrate  said  were  needed  for  the  trial. 
That  trunk  was  sealed  like  the  bottle,  and  put  on  the 


iy8     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

carriage ;  then  that  man  Galpin  went  off,  and  told  me 
that  I  was  free." 

"  And  Jacques,"  Dionysia  asked  eagerly, — "  how  did 
he  look?" 

"  Master,  madam,  laughed  contemptuously." 

"  Did  you  speak  to  him  ?  "  asked  M.  Folgat. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir !    M.  Galpin  would  not  allow  me." 

"  And  did  you  have  time  to  look  at  the  gun  ?  " 

"  I  could  bust  just  glance  at  the  cock." 

"  And  what  did  you  see  ?  " 

The  brow  of  the  old  servant  grew  still  darker,  as 
he  replied  sadly, — 

"  I  saw  that  I  had  done  well  to  keep  silent.  The 
lock  is  black.  Master  must  have  used  his  gun  since 
I  cleaned  it." 

Grandpapa  Chandore  and  M.  Folgat  exchanged 
looks  of  distress.  One  more  hope  was  lost. 

"  Now,"  said  the  young  lawyer,  "  tell  me  how  M. 
de  Boiscoran  usually  charged  his  gun." 

"  He  used  cartridges,  sir,  of  course.  They  sent  him, 
I  think,  two  thousand  with  the  gun, — some  for  balls, 
some  with  large  shot,  and  others  with  shot  of  every 
size.  At  this  season,  when  hunting  is  prohibited,  mas- 
ter could  shoot  nothing  but  rabbits,  or  those  little  birds, 
you  know,  which  come  to  our  marshes:  so  he  always 
loaded  one  barrel  with  tolerably  large  shot,  and  the 
other  with  small-shot." 

But  he  stopped  suddenly,  shocked  at  the  impression 
which  his  statement  seemed  to  produce.  Dionysia 
cried, — 

"  That  is  terrible !     Every  thing  is  against  us  !  " 

M.  Folgat  did  not  give  her  time  to  say  any  more. 
He  asked, — 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     179 

"  My  dear  Anthony,  did  M.  Galpin  take  all  of  your 
master's  cartridges  away  with  him?" 

"  Oh,  no !  certainly  not." 

"  Well,  you  must  instantly  go  back  to  Boiscoran, 
and  bring  me  three  or  four  cartridges  of  every  num- 
ber of  shot." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I'll  be  back  in  a 
short  time." 

He  started  immediately;  and,  thanks  to  his  great 
promptness,  he  reappeared  at  seven  o'clock,  at  the  mo- 
ment when  the  family  got  up  from  dinner,  and  put  a 
large  package  of  cartridges  on  the  table. 

M.  de  Chandore  and  M.  Folgat  had  quickly  opened 
some  of  them ;  and,  after  a  few  failures,  they  found 
two  numbers  of  shot  which  seemed  to  correspond  ex- 
actly to  the  samples  left  them  by  the  doctor. 

"  There  is  an  incomprehensible  fatality  in  all  this," 
said  the  old  gentleman  in  an  undertone. 

The  young  lawyer,  also,  looked  discouraged. 

"  It  is  madness,"  he  said,  "  to  try  to  establish  M.  de 
Boiscoran's  innocence  without  having  first  communi- 
cated with  him." 

"  And  if  you  could  do  so  to-morrow  ? "  asked 
Dionysia. 

"  Then,  madam,  he  might  give  us  the  key  to  this 
mystery  which  we  are  in  vain  trying  to  solve;  or,  at 
least,  he  might  tell  us  the  way  to  find  it  all  out.  But 
that  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  held 
in  close  confinement;  and  you  may  rest  assured  M. 
Galpin  will  see  to  it  that  no  communication  is  held 
with  his  prisoner." 

"  Who  knows  ?  "  said  the  young  girl. 

And  immediately  she  drew  M.  de  Chandore  aside 


i8o     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

into  one  of  the  little  card- rooms  adjoining  the  parlor, 
and  asked  him, — 

"Grandpapa,  am  I  rich?" 

Never  in  her  life  had  she  thought  of  that,  and  she 
was  to  a  certain  extent  utterly  ignorant  of  the  value 
of  money. 

"  Yes,  you  are  rich,  my  child,"  replied  the  old  gen- 
tleman. 

"  How  much  do  I  have  ?  " 

"You  have  in  your  own  right,  as  coming  to  you 
from  your  poor  father  and  from  your  mother,  twenty- 
five  thousand  francs  a  year,  or  a  capital  of  about 
five  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs." 

"  And  is  that  a  good  deal  ?  " 

"  It  is  so  much,  that  you  are  one  of  the  richest 
heiresses  of  the  district;  but  you  have,  besides,  con- 
siderable expectations." 

Dionysia  was  so  preoccupied,  that  she  did  not  even 
protest.  She  went  on  asking, — 

"What  do  they  call  here  to  be  well  off?" 

"  That  depends,  my  child.     If  you  will  tell  me  " — 

She  interrupted  him,  putting  down  her  foot  impa- 
tiently, saying, — 

"  Nothing.    Please  answer  me !  " 

"  Well,  in  our  little  town,  an  income  of  eight  hun- 
dred or  a  thousand  francs  makes  anybody  very  well 
off." 

"  Let  us  say  a  thousand." 

"  Well,  a  thousand  would  make  a  man  very  com- 
fortable." 

"  And  what  capital  would  produce  such  an  in- 
come ?  " 

"  At  five  per  cent,  it  would  take  twenty  thousand 
francs." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     181 

"  That  is  to  say,  about  the  income  of  a  year." 

"  Exactly." 

"  Never  mind.  I  presume  that  is  quite  a  large  sum, 
and  it  would  be  rather  difficult  for  you,  grandpa,  to 
get  it  together  by  to-morrow  morning?" 

"  Not  at  all.  I  have  that  much  in  railway  coupon- 
bonds;  and  they  are  just  as  good  as  current  money." 

"  Ah !  Do  you  mean  to  say,  that,  if  I  gave  anybody 
twenty  thousand  francs  in  such  bonds,  it  would  be 
just  the  same  to  him  as  if  I  gave  him  twenty  thousand 
francs  in  bank-notes  ?  " 

"Just  so." 

Dionysia  smiled.  She  thought  she  saw  light.  Then 
she  went  on, — 

"  If  that  is  so,  I  must  beg  you,  grandpa,  to  give  me 
twenty  thousand  francs  in  coupon-bonds." 

The  old  gentleman  started. 

"  You  are  joking,"  he  said.  "  What  do  you  want 
with  so  much  money?  You  are  surely  joking." 

"  Not  at  all.  I  have  never  in  my  life  been  more 
serious,"  replied  the  young  girl  in  a  tone  of  voice 
which  could  not  be  mistaken.  "  I  beseech  you,  grand- 
pa, if  you  love  me,  give  me  these  twenty  thousand 
francs  this  evening,  right  now.  You  hesitate?  O 
God !  You  may  kill  me  if  you  refuse." 

No,  M.  de  Chandore  was  hesitating  no  longer. 

"  Since  you  will  have  it  so,"  he  said,  "  I  am  going 
up  stairs  to  get  it." 

She  clapped  her  hands  with  joy. 

"  That's  it,"  she  said.  "  Make  haste  and  dress ;  for 
I  have  to  go  out,  and  you  must  go  with  me." 

Then  going  up  to  her  aunts  and  the  marchioness, 
she  said  to  them, — 

"  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me,  if  I  leave  you ;  but  I 
must  go  out." 


i82     WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"At  this  hour?"  cried  Aunt  Elizabeth.  "Where 
are  you  going  ?  " 

"  To  my  dressmakers,  the  Misses  Mechinet.  I  want 
a  dress." 

"  Great  God !  "  cried  Aunt  Adelaide,  "  the  child  is 
losing  her  mind !  " 

"  I  asure  you  I  am  not,  aunt." 

"Then  let  me  go  with  you." 

"  Thank  you,  no.  I  shall  go  alone ;  that  is  to  say, 
alone  with  dear  grandpapa." 

And  as  M.  de  Chandore  came  back,  his  pockets  full 
of  bonds,  his  hat  on  his  head,  and  his  cane  in  his 
hand,  she  carried  him  off,  saying, — 

"  Come,  quick,  dear  grandpa,  we  are  in  a  great 
hurry." 


VII. 


ALTHOUGH  M.  de  Chandore  was  literally  worship- 
ping his  grandchild  on  his  knees,  and  had  transferred 
all  his  hopes  and  his  affections  to  her  who  alone  sur- 
vived of  his  large  family,  he  had  still  had  his  thoughts 
when  he  went  up  stairs  to  take  from  his  money-box  so 
large  a  sum  of  money.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  they 
were  outside  of  the  house,  he  said, — 

"  Now  that  we  are  alone,  my  dear  child,  will  you 
tell  me  what  you  mean  to  do  with  all  this  money  ?  " 

"  That  is  my  secret,"  she  replied. 

"  And  you  have  not  confidence  enough  in  your  old 
grandfather  to  tell  him  what  it  is,  darling  ?  " 

He  stopped  a  moment;  but  she  drew  him  on, 
saying,— 

"  You  shall  know  it  all,  and  in  less  than  an  hour. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     183 

But,  oh!  you  must  not  be  angry,  grandpa.  I  have  a 
plan,  which  is  no  doubt  very  foolish.  If  I  told  you,  I 
am  afraid  you  would  stop  me;  and  if  you  succeeded, 
and  then  something  happened  to  Jacques,  I  should  not 
survive  the  misery.  And  think  of  it,  what  you  would 
feel,  if  you  were  to  think  afterwards,  '  If  I  had  only 
let  her  have  her  way ! ' ' 

"  Dionysia,  you  are  cruel !  " 

"  On  the  other  hand,  if  you  did  not  induce  me  to 
give  up  my  project,  you  would  certainly  take  away  all 
my  courage ;  and  I  need  it  all,  I  tell  you,  grandpa,  for 
what  I  am  going  to  risk." 

"  You  see,  my  dear  child,  and  you  must  pardon  me 
for  repeating  it  once  more,  twenty  thousand  francs 
are  a  big  sum  of  money ;  and  there  are  many  excellent 
and  clever  people  who  work  hard,  and  deny  themselves 
every  thing,  a  whole  life  long,  without  laying  up  that 
much." 

"  Ah,  so  much  the  better ! "  cried  the  young  girl. 
"  So  much  the  better.  I  do  hope  there  will  be  enough 
so  as  to  meet  with  no  refusal !  " 

Grandpapa  Chandore  began  to  comprehend. 

"  After  all,"  he  said,  "  you  have  not  told  me  where 
we  are  going." 

"  To  my  dressmakers." 

"  To  the  Misses  Mechinet  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

M.  de  Chandore  was  sure  now. 

"  We  shall  not  find  them  at  home,"  he  said.  "  This 
is  Sunday ;  and  they  are  no  doubt  at  church." 

"  We  shall  find  them,  grandpa ;  for  they  always  take 
tea  at  half-past  seven,  for  their  brother's,  the  clerk's 
sake.  But  we  must  make  haste." 

The  old  gentleman  did  make  haste ;  but  it  is  a  long 


i84     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF  HIS   LIFE 

way  from  the  New-Market  Place  to  Hill  Street;  for 
the  sisters  Mechinet  lived  on  the  Square,  and,  if  you 
please,  in  a  house  of  their  own, — a  house  which  was 
to  be  the  delight  of  their  days,  and  which  had  become 
the  trouble  of  their  nights. 

They  bought  the  house  the  year  before  the  war, 
upon  their  brother's  advice,  and  going  halves  with 
him,  paying  a  sum  of  forty-seven  thousand  francs, 
every  thing  included.  It  was  a  capital  bargain;  for 
they  rented  out  the  basement  and  the  first  story  to 
the  first  grocer  in  Sauveterre.  The  sisters  did  not 
think  they  were  imprudent  in  paying  down  ten  thou- 
sand francs  in  cash,  and  in  binding  themselves  to  pay 
the  rest  in  three  yearly  instalments.  The  first  year 
all  went  well;  but  then  came  the  war  and  numerous 
disasters.  The  income  of  the  sisters  and  of  the  brother 
was  much  reduced,  and  they  had  nothing  to  live  upon 
but  his  pay  as  clerk;  so  that  they  had  to  use  the  ut- 
most economy,  and  even  contract  some  debts,  in  order 
to  pay  the  second  instalment.  When  peace  came, 
their  income  increased  again,  and  no  one  doubted  in 
Sauveterre  but  that  they  would  manage  to  get  out 
of  their  difficulties,  as  the  brother  was  one  of  the  hard- 
est working  men,  and  the  sisters  were  patronized  by 
"  the  most  distinguished  "  ladies  of  the  whole  country. 

"  Grandpapa,  they  are  at  home,"  said  Dionysia,  when 
they  reached  the  Square. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure.    I  see  light  in  their  windows." 

M.  de  Chandore  stopped. 

"What  am  I  to  do  next?"  he  asked. 

"  You  are  going  to  give  me  the  bonds,  grandpa,  and 
to  wait  for  me  here,  walking  up  and  down,  whilst  I 
am  going  up  to  the  Misses  Mechinet.  I  would  ask 


185 

you  to  come  up  too;  but  they  would  be  frightened  at 
seeing  you.  Moreover,  if  my  enterprise  does  not  suc- 
ceed, it  would  not  matter  much  as  long  as  it  con- 
cerned only  a  little  girl." 

The  old  gentleman's  last  doubts  began  to  vanish. 

"  You  won't  succeed,  my  poor  child,"  he  said. 

"  O  God ! "  she  replied,  checking  her  tears  with  dif- 
ficulty, "  why  will  you  discourage  me  ?  " 

He  said  nothing.  Suppressing  a  sigh,  he  pulled  the 
papers  out  of  his  pockets,  and  helped  Dionysia  to  stuff 
them,  as  well  as  she  could,  into  her  pocket  and  a  little 
bag  she  had  in  her  hand.  When  she  had  done,  she 
said, — 

"  Well,  good-by,  grandpa.    I  won't  be  long." 

And  lightly,  like  a  bird,  she  crossed  the  street,  and 
ran  up  to  her  dressmakers.  The  old  ladies  and  their 
brother  were  just  finishing  their  supper,  which  con- 
sisted of  a  small  piece  of  pork  and  a  light  salad,  with 
an  abundance  of  vinegar.  At  the  unexpected  entrance 
of  Miss  Chandore  they  all  started  up. 

"  You,  miss,"  cried  the  elder  of  the  two, — "  you !  " 

Dionysia  understood  perfectly  well  what  that  simple 
"  you  "  meant.  It  meant,  with  the  help  of  the  tone  of 
voice,  "  What  ?  your  betrothed  is  charged  with  an 
abominable  crime;  there  is  overwhelming  evidence 
against  him;  he  is  in  jail,  in  close  confinement;  every- 
body knows  he  will  be  tried  at  the  assizes,  and  he  will 
be  condemned — and  you  are  here  ?  " 

But  Dionysia  kept  on  smiling,  as  she  had  entered. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  it  is  I.  I  must  have  two 
dresses  for  next  week ;  and  I  came  to  ask  you  to  show 
me  some  samples." 

The  Misses  Mechinet,  always  acting  upon  their 
brother's  advice,  had  made  an  arrangement  with  a  large 


i86     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

house  in  Bordeaux,  by  which  they  received  samples 
of  all  their  goods,  and  were  allowed  a  discount  on 
whatever  they  sold. 

"  I  will  do  so  with  pleasure,"  said  the  older  sister. 
"Just  allow  me  to  light  a  lamp.  It  is  almost  dark." 

While  she  was  wiping  the  chimney,  and  trimming 
the  wick,  she  asked  her  brother, — 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  the  Orpheon  ?  " 

"  Not  to-night,"  he  replied. 

"  Are  you  not  expected  to  be  there  ?  " 

"  No :  I  sent  them  word  I  would  not  come.  I  have 
to  lithograph  two  plates  for  the  printer,  and  some 
very  urgent  copying  to  do  for  the  court." 

While  he  was  thus  replying,  he  had  folded  up  his 
napkin,  and  lighted  a  candle. 

"  Good-night ! "  he  said  to  his  sisters.  "  I  won't 
see  you  again  to-night,"  and,  bowing  deeply  to  Miss 
Chandore,  he  went  out,  his  candle  in  his  hand. 

"Where  is  your  brother  going?"  Dionysia  asked 
eagerly.  ' 

"  To  his  room,  madam.  His  room  is  just  opposite, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  staircase." 

Dionysia  was  as  red  as  fire.  Was  she  thus  to  let 
her  opportunity  slip, — an  opportunity  such  as  she  had 
never  dared  hope  for?  Gathering  up  all  her  courage, 
she  said, — 

"  But,  now  I  think  of  it,  I  want  to  say  a  few  words 
to  your  brother,  my  dear  ladies.  Wait  for  me  a  mo- 
ment. I  shall  be  back  in  a  moment."  And  she  rushed 
out,  leaving  the  dressmakers  stupefied,  gazing  after 
her  with  open  mouths,  and  asking  themselves  if  the 
great  calamity  had  bereft  the  poor  lady  of  reason. 

The  clerk  was  still  on  the  landing,  fumbling  in  his 
pocket  for  the  key  of  his  room. 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     187 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  instantly,"  said  Dionysia. 

Mechinet  was  so  utterly  amazed,  that  he  could  not 
utter  a  word.  He  made  a  movement  as  if  he  wanted 
to  go  back  to  his  sisters ;  but  the  young-  girl  said, — 

"  No,  in  your  room.  We  must  not  be  overheard. 
Open  sir,  please.  Open,  somebody  might  come." 

The  fact  is,  he  was  so  completely  overcome,  that  it 
took  him  half  a  minute  to  find  the  keyhole,  and  put 
the  key  in.  At  last,  when  the  door  was  opened,  he 
moved  aside  to  let  Dionysia  pass :  but  she  said,  "  No, 
go  in ! " 

He  obeyed.  She  followed  him,  and,  as  soon  as  she 
was  in  the  room,  she  shut  the  door  again,  pushing 
even  a  bolt  which  she  had  noticed.  Mechinet  the  clerk 
was  famous  in  Sauveterre  for  his  coolness.  Dionysia 
was  timidity  personified,  and  blushed  for  the  smallest 
trifle,  remaining  speechless  for  some  time.  At  this 
moment,  however,  it  was  certainly  not  the  young  girl 
who  was  embarrassed. 

"  Sit  down,  M.  Mechinet,"  she  said,  "  and  listen  to 
me." 

He  put  his  candlestick  on  a  table,  and  sat  down. 

"  You  know  me,  don't  you  ?  "  asked  Dionysia. 

"  Certainly  I  do,  madam." 

"  You  have  surely  heard  that  I  am  to  be  married 
to  M.  de  Boiscoran?" 

The  clerk  started  up,  as  if  he  had  been  moved  by  a 
spring,  beat  his  forehead  furiously  with  his  hand,  and 
said, — 

"  Ah,  what  a  fool  I  was !    Now  I  see." 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,"  replied  the  girl.  "  I  come  to 
talk  to  you  about  M.  de  Boiscoran,  my  betrothed,  my 
husband." 

She  paused ;  and  for  a  minute  Mechinet  and  the 


i88     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

young  girl  remained  there  face  to  face,  silent  and  im- 
movable, looking  at  each  other,  he  asking  himself  what 
she  could  want  of  him,  and  she  trying  to  guess  how 
far  she  might  venture. 

"  You  can  no  doubt  imagine,  M.  Mechinet,  what  I 
have  suffered,  since  M.  de  Boiscoran  has  been  sent  to 
prison,  charged  with  the  meanest  of  all  crimes !  " 

"  Oh,  surely,  I  do !  "  replied  Mechinet. 

And,  carried  away  by  his  emotion,  he  added, — 

"  But  I  can  assure  you,  madam,  that  I,  who  have 
been  present  at  all  the  examinations,  and  who  have 
no  small  experience  in  criminal  matters, — that  I  be- 
lieve M.  de  Boiscoran  innocent.  I  know  M.  Galpin 
does  not  think  so,  nor  M.  Daubigeon,  nor  any  of  the 
gentlemen  of  the  bar,  nor  the  town ;  but,  nevertheless, 
that  is  my  conviction.  You  see,  I  was  there  when  they 
fell  upon  M.  de  Boiscoran,  asleep  in  his  bed.  Well, 
the  very  tone  of  his  voice,  as  he  cried  out,  '  Oh,  my 
dear  Galpin ! '  told  me  that  man  is  not  guilty." 

"  Oh,  sir,"  stammered  Dionysia,  "  thanks,  thanks !  " 

"  There  is  nothing  to  thank  me  for,  madam  ;  for  time 
has  only  confirmed  my  conviction.  As  if  a  guilty 
man  ever  bore  himself  as  M.  de  Boiscoran  does  !  You 
ought  to  have  seen  him  just  now,  when  we  had  gone 
to  remove  the  seals,  calm,  dignified,  answering  coldly 
all  the  questions  that  were  asked.  I  could  not  help 
telling  M.  Galpin  what  I  thought.  He  said  I  was  a 
fool.  Well,  I  maintain,  on  the  contrary,  that  he  is. 
Ah!  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  mean  that  he  is  mistaken. 
The  more  I  see  of  M.  de  Boiscoran,  the  more  he  gives 
me  the  impression  that  he  has  only  a  word  to  say  to 
clear  up  the  whole  matter." 

Dionysia  listened  to  him  with  such  absorbing  inter- 
est, that  she  well-nigh  forgot  why  she  had  come. 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE     189 

"  Then,"  she  asked,  "you  think  M.  de  Boiscoran 
is  not  much  overcome  ?  " 

"  I  should  lie  if  I  said  he  did  not  look  sad,  madam," 
was  the  reply.  "  But  he  is  not  overcome.  After  the 
first  astonishment,  his  presence  of  mind  returned ;  and 
M.  Galpin  has  in  vain  tried  these  three  days  by  all 
his  ingenuity  and  his  cleverness  " — 

Here  he  stopped  suddenly,  like  a  drunken  man  who 
recovers  his  consciousness  for  a  moment,  and  becomes 
aware  that  he  has  said  too  much  in  his  cups.  He  ex- 
claimed,— 

"  Great  God !  what  am  I  talking  about  ?  For  Heav- 
en's sake,  madam,  do  not  let  anybody  hear  what  I  was 
led  by  my  respectful  sympathy  to  tell  you  just  now." 

Dionysia  felt  that  the  decisive  moment  had  come. 
She  said, — 

"If  you  knew  me  better,  sir,  you  would  know 
that  you  can  rely  upon  my  discretion.  You  need  not 
regret  having  given  me  by  your  confidence  some  little 
comfort  in  my  great  sorrow.  You  need  not ;  for  " — 

Her  voice  nearly  failed  her,  and  it  was  only  with 
a  great  effort  she  could  add, — 

"  For  I  come  to  ask  you  to  do  even  more  than  that 
for  me,  oh !  yes,  much  more." 

Mechinet  had  turned  painfully  pale.  He  broke  in 
vehemently, — 

"  Not  another  word,  madam :  your  hope  already  is 
an  insult  to  me.  You  ought  surely  to  know  that  by 
my  profession,  as  well  as  by  my  oath,  I  am  bound  to 
be  as  silent  as  the  very  cell  in  which  the  prisoners  are 
kept.  If  I,  the  clerk,  were  to  betray  the  secret  of  a 
criminal  prosecution  " — 

Dionysia  trembled  like  an  aspen-leaf;  but  her  mind 
remained  clear  and  decided.  She  said, — 


igo     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  You  would  rather  let  an  innocent  man  perish." 

"  Madam !  " 

"  You  would  let  an  innocent  man  be  condemned, 
when  by  a  single  word  you  could  remove  the  mistake 
of  which  he  is  the  victim  ?  You  would  say  to  yourself, 
1  It  is  unlucky ;  but  I  have  sworn  not  to  speak  '  ?  And 
you  would  see  him  with  quiet  conscience  mount  the 
scaffold  ?  No,  I  cannot  believe  that !  No,  that  cannot 
be  true !  " 

"  I  told  you,  madam,  I  believe  in  M.  de  Boiscoran's 
innocence." 

"  And  you  refuse  to  aid  me  in  establishing  his  inno- 
cence? O  God!  what  ideas  men  form  of  their  duty! 
How  can  I  move  you  ?  how  can  I  convince  you  ?  Must 
I  remind  you  of  the  torture  this  man  suffers,  whom 
they  charge  with  being  an  assassin?  Must  I  tell  you 
what  horrible  anguish  we  suffer,  we,  his  friends, 
his  relatives? — how  his  mother  weeps,  how  I  weep,  I, 
his  betrothed !  We  know  he  is  innocent ;  and  yet  we 
cannot  establish  his  innocence  for  want  of  a  friend 
who  would  aid  us,  who  would  pity  us !  " 

In  all  his  life  the  clerk  had  not  heard  such  burning 
words.  He  was  moved  to  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  At 
last  he  asked,  trembling, — 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do,  madam  ?  " 

"  Oh !  very  little,  sir,  very  little, — just  to  send  M.  de 
Boiscoran  ten  lines,  and  to  bring  us  his  reply." 

The  boldness  of  the  request  seemed  to  stun  the 
clerk.  He  said, — 

"  Never !  " 

"You  will  not  have  pity?" 

"  I  should  forfeit  my  honor." 

"And,  if  you  let  an  innocent  one  be  condemned, 
what  would  that  be  ? " 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     191 

Mechinet  was  evidently  suffering  anguish.  Amazed, 
overcome,  he  did  not  know  what  to  say,  what  to  do. 
At  last  he  thought  of  one  reason  for  refusing,  and 
stammered  out, — 

"  And  if  I  were  found  out  ?  I  should  lose  my  place, 
ruin  my  sisters,  destroy  my  career  for  life." 

With  trembling  hands,  Dionysia  drew  from  her 
pocket  the  bonds  which  her  grandfather  had  given 
her,  and  threw  them  in  a  heap  on  the  table.  She  be- 
gan,— 

"  There  are  twenty  thousand  francs." 

The  clerk  drew  back  frightened.     He  cried, — 

"  Money !    You  offer  me  money !  " 

"  Oh,  don't  be  offended !  "  began  the  young  girl 
again,  with  a  voice  that  would  have  moved  a  stone. 
"  How  could  I  want  to  offend  you,  when  I  ask  of  you 
more  than  my  life?  There  are  services  which  can 
never  be  paid.  But,  if  the  enemies  of  M.  de  Boisco- 
ran  should  find  out  that  you  have  aided  us,  their  rage 
might  turn  against  you." 

Instinctively  the  clerk  unloosened  his  cravat.  The 
struggle  within  him,  no  doubt,  was  terrible.  He  was 
stifled. 

"  Twenty  thousand  francs ! "  he  said  in  a  hoarse 
voice. 

"  Is  it  not  enough  ?  "  asked  the  young  girl.  "  Yes, 
you  are  right:  it  is  very  little.  But  I  have  as  much 
again  for  you,  twice  as  much." 

With  haggard  eyes,  Mechinet  had  aproached  the 
table,  and  was  convulsively  handling  the  pile  of  papers, 
whilst  he  repeated, — 

"  Twenty  thousand  francs !  a  thousand  a  year ! " 

"  No,  double  that  much,  and,  moreover,  our  grati- 
tude, our  devoted  friendship,  all  the  influence  of  the 


i92     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

two  families  of  Boiscoran  and  Chandore;  in  a  word, 
fortune,  position,  respect." 

But  by  this  time,  thanks  to  a  supreme  effort  of  will, 
the  clerk  had  recovered  his  self-control. 

"  No  more,  madam,  say  no  more !  " 

And  with  a  determined,  though  still  trembling  voice, 
he  went  on, — 

"  Take  your  money  back  again,  madam.  If  I  were 
to  do  what  you  want  me  to  do,  if  I  were  to  betray  my 
duty  for  money,  I  should  be  the  meanest  of  men.  If, 
on  the  other  hand,  I  am  actuated  only  by  a  sincere 
conviction  and  an  interest  in  the  truth,  I  may  be 
looked  upon  as  a  fool ;  but  I  shall  always  be  worthy  of 
the  esteem  of  honorable  men.  Take  back  that  fortune, 
madam,  which  has  made  an  honest  man  waver  for  a 
moment  in  his  conscience.  I  will  do  what  you  ask, 
but  for  nothing." 

If  grandpapa  was  getting  tired  of  walking  up  and 
down  in  the  Square,  the  sisters  of  Mechinet  found  time 
pass  still  more  slowly  in  their  workroom.  They  asked 
each  other, — 

"  What  can  Miss  Dionysia  have  to  say  to  brother  ?  " 

At  the  end  of  ten  minutes,  their  curiosity,  stimulated 
by  the  most  absurd  suppositions,  had  become  such 
martyrdom  to  them,  that  they  made  up  their  minds  to 
knock  at  the  clerk's  door. 

"  Ah,  leave  me  alone ! "  he  cried  out,  angry  at  be- 
ing thus  interrupted.  But  then  he  considered  a  mo- 
ment, opened  hastily,  and  said  quite  gently, — 

"  Go  back  to  your  room,  my  dear  sisters,  and,  if 
you  wish  to  spare  me  a  very  serious  embarrassment, 
never  tell  anybody  in  this  world  that  Miss  Chandore 
has  had  a  conversation  with  me." 

Trained  to  obey,  the  two  sisters  went  back,  but  not 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     193 

so  promptly  that  they  should  have  not  seen  the  bonds 
which  Dionysia  had  thrown  upon  the  table,  and  which 
were  quite  familiar  in  their  appearance  to  them,  as 
they  had  once  owned  some  of  them  themselves.  Their 
burning  desire  to  know  was  thus  combined  with  vague 
terror;  and,  when  they  got  back  to  their  room,  the 
younger  asked, — 

"  Did  you  see  ?  " 

"  Yes,  those  bonds,"  replied  the  other. 

"  There  must  have  been  five  or  six  hundred." 

"  Even  more,  perhaps." 

"  That  is  to  say,  a  very  big  sum  of  money." 

"  An  enormous  one." 

"  What  can  that  mean,  Holy  Virgin !  and  what  have 
we  to  expect?" 

"  And  brother  asking  us  to  keep  his  secret !  " 

"  He  looked  as  pale  as  his  shirt,  and  terribly  dis- 
tressed." 

"  Miss  Dionysia  was  crying  like  a  Magdalen." 

It  was  so.  Dionysia,  as  long  as  she  had  been  un- 
certain of  the  result,  had  felt  in  her  heart  that  Jacques's 
safety  depended  on  her  courage  and  her  presence  of 
mind.  But  now,  assured  of  success,  she  could  no 
longer  control  her  excitement;  and,  overcome  by  the 
effort,  she  had  sunk  down  on  a  chair,  and  burst  out 
into  tears. 

The  clerk  shut  the  door,  and  looked  at  her  for  some 
time;  then,  having  overcome  his  own  emotions,  he 
said  to  her, — 

"  Madam." 

But,  as  she  heard  his  voice,  she  jumped  up,  and, 
taking  his  hands  into  hers,  she  broke  out, — 

"  O  sir !  how  can  I  thank  you !  How  can  I  ever 
make  you  aware  of  the  depth  of  my  gratitude ! " 


i94     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Don't  speak  of  that,"  he  said  almost  rudely,  try- 
ing to  conceal  his  deep  feeling. 

"  I  will  say  nothing  more,"  she  replied  very  gently ; 
"  but  I  must  tell  you  that  none  of  us  will  ever  forget 
the  debt  of  gratitude  which  we  owe  you  from  this  day. 
You  say  the  great  service  which  you  are  about  to  ren- 
der us  is  not  free  from  danger.  Whatever  may  hap- 
pen, you  must  remember,  that,  from  this  moment,  you 
have  in  us  devoted  friends." 

The  interruption  caused  by  his  sisters  had  had  the 
good  effect  of  restoring  to  Mechinet  a  good  portion 
of  his  habitual  self-possession.  He  said, — 

"  I  hope  no  harm  will  come  of  it ;  and  yet  I  cannot 
conceal  from  you,  madam,  that  the  service  which  I 
am  going  to  try  to  render  you  presents  more  difficul- 
ties than  I  thought." 

"  Great  God !  "  murmured  Dionysia. 

"  M.  Galpin,"  the  clerk  went  on  saying,  "  is,  per- 
haps, not  exactly  a  superior  man ;  but  he  understands 
his  profession:  he  is  cunning,  and  exceedingly  suspi- 
cious. Only  yesterday  he  told  me  that  he  knew  the 
Boiscoran  family  would  try  every  thing  in  the  world 
to  save  M.  de  Boiscoran  from  justice.  Hence  he  is  all 
the  time  on  the  watch,  and  takes  all  kinds  of  precau- 
tions. If  he  dared  do  it,  he  would  have  his  bed  put 
across  his  cell  in  the  prison." 

"That  man  hates  me,  M.  Mechinet!" 

"  Oh,  no,  madam !  But  he  is  ambitious :  he  thinks 
his  success  in  his  profession  depends  upon  his  success 
in  this  case ;  and  he  is  afraid  the  accused  might  escape, 
or  be  carried  off." 

Mechinet  was  evidently  in  great  perplexity,  and 
scratched  his  ear.  Then  he  added, — 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE     195 

"  How  am  I  to  go  about  to  let  M.  de  Boiscoran  have 
your  note?  If  he  knew  beforehand,  it  would  be  easy. 
But  he  is  unprepared.  And  then  he  is  just  as  suspi- 
cious as  M.  Galpin.  He  is  always  afraid  lest  they 
prepare  him  a  trap;  and  he  is  on  the  lookout.  If  I 
make  him  a  sign,  I  fear  he  will  not  understand  me; 
and,  if  I  make  him  a  sign,  will  not  M.  Galpin  see  it? 
That  man  is  lynx-eyed." 

"  Are  you  never  alone  with  M.  de  Boiscoran  ?  " 

"  Never  for  an  instant,  madam.  I  only  go  in  with 
the  magistrate,  and  I  come  out  with  him.  You  will  say, 
perhaps,  that  in  leaving,  as  I  am  behind,  I  might  drop 
the  note  cleverly.  But,  when  we  leave,  the  jailer  is 
there,  and  he  has  good  eyes.  I  should  have  to  dread, 
besides,  M.  de  Boiscoran's  own  suspicions.  If  he 
saw  a  letter  coming  to  him  in  that  way,  from  me,  he  is 
quite  capable  of  handing  it  at  once  to  M.  Galpin." 

He  paused,  and  after  a  moment's  meditation  he  went 
on, — 

"  The  safest  way  would  probably  be  to  win  the  con- 
fidence of  M.  Blangin,  the  keeper  of  the  jail,  or  of 
some  prisoner,  whose  duty  it  is  to  wait  on  M.  de  Bois- 
coran, and  to  watch  him." 

"  Trumence !  "  exclaimed  Dionysia. 

The  clerk's  face  expressed  the  most  startled  sur- 
prise. He  said, — 

"  What !    You  know  his  name  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do ;  for  Blangin  mentioned  him  to  me ;  and 
the  name  struck  me  the  day  when  M.  de  Boiscoran's 
mother  and  I  went  to  the  jail,  not  knowing  what  was 
meant  by  '  close  confinement.'  " 

The  clerk  was  disappointed. 

"  Ah !  "  he  said,  "  now  I  understand  M.  Galpin's 


i96     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

great  trouble.  He  has,  no  doubt,  heard  of  your  visit, 
and  imagined  that  you  wanted  to  rob  him  of  his 
prisoner." 

He  murmured  some  words,  which  Dionysia  could 
not  hear;  and  then,  coming  to  some  decision,  appar- 
ently, he  said, — 

"  Well,  never  mind !  I'll  see  what  can  be  done. 
Write  ypur  letter,  madam :  here  are  pens  and  ink." 

The  young  girl  made  no  reply,  but  sat  down  at 
Mechinet's  table;  but,  at  the  moment  when  she  was 
putting  pen  to  paper,  she  asked, — 

"Has  M.  de  Boiscoran  any  books  in  his  prison?" 

"  Yes,  madam.  At  his  request  M.  Galpin  himself 
went  and  selected,  in  M.  Daubigeon's  library,  some 
books  of  travels  and  some  of  Cooper's  novels  for 
him." 

Dionysia  uttered  a  cry  of  delight. 

"  O  Jacques ! "  she  said,  "  how  glad  I  am  you 
counted  upon  me ! "  and,  without  noticing  how  utterly 
Mechinet  seemed  to  be  surprised,  she  wrote, — 

"  We  are  sure  of  your  innocence,  Jacques,  and  still 
we  are  in  despair.  Your  mother  is  here,  with  a  Paris 
lawyer,  a  Mr.  Folgat,  who  is  devoted  to  your  interests. 
What  must  we  do?  Give  us  your  instructions.  You 
can  reply  without  fear,  as  you  have  our  book. 

"  DIONYSIA." 

"  Read  this,"  she  said  to  the  clerk,  when  she  had 
finished.  But  he  did  not  avail  himself  of  the  permis- 
sion. He  folded  the  paper,  and  slipped  it  into  an  en- 
velope, which  he  sealed. 

"  Oh,  you  are  very  kind !  "  said  the  young  girl, 
touched  by  his  delicacy. 

"  Not  at  all,  madam.    I  only  try  to  do  a  dishonest 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     197 

thing  in  the  most  honest  way.  To-morrow,  madam, 
you  shall  have  your  answer." 

"  I  will  call  for  it." 

Mechinet  trembled. 

"  Take  care  not  to  do  so,"  he  said.  "  The  good 
people  of  Sauveterre  are  too  cunning  not  to  know  that 
just  now  you  are  not  thinking  much  of  dress;  and 
your  calls  here  would  look  suspicious.  Leave  it  to 
me  to  see  to  it  that  you  get  M.  de  Boiscoran's  answer." 

While  Dionysia  was  writing,  the  clerk  had  made  a 
parcel  of  the  bonds  which  she  had  brought.  He 
handed  it  to  her,  and  said, — 

"  Take  it,  madam.  If  I  want  money  for  Blangin, 
or  for  Trumence,  I  will  ask  you  for  it.  And  now  you 
must  go:  you  need  not  go  in  to  my  sisters.  I  will 
explain  your  visit  to  them." 


VIII. 

"  WHAT  can  have  happened  to  Dionysia,  that  she 
does  not  come  back  ?  "  murmured  Grandpapa  Chan- 
dore,  as  he  walked  up  and  down  the  Square,  and 
looked,  for  the  twentieth  time,  at  his  watch.  For  some 
time  the  fear  of  displeasing  his  grandchild,  and  of  re- 
ceiving a  scolding,  kept  him  at  the  place  where  she 
had  told  him  to  wait  for  her;  -but  at  last  it  was  too 
much  for  him,  and  he  said, — 

"  Upon  my  word,  this  is  too  much !    I'll  risk  it." 
And,  crossing  the  road  which  separates  the  Square 
from  the  houses,  he  entered  the  long,  narrow  passage 
in  the  house  of  the  sisters  Mechinet.    He  was  just  put- 
ting his  foot  on  the  first  step  of  the  stairs,  when  he 


i98     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

saw  a  light  above.  He  distinguished  the  voice  of  his 
grand-daughter,  and  then  her  light  step. 

"  At  last !  "  he  thought. 

And  swiftly,  like  a  schoolboy  who  hears  his  teacher 
coming,  and  fears  to  be  caught  in  the  act,  he  slipped 
back  into  the  Square.  Dionysia  was  there  almost  at 
the  same  moment,  and  fell  on  his  neck,  saying, — 

"  Dear  grandpa,  I  bring  you  back  your  bonds ;  "  and 
then  she  rained  a  shower  of  kisses  upon  the  old  gen- 
tleman's furrowed  cheeks. 

If  any  thing  could  astonish  M.  de  Chandore,  it  was 
the  idea  that  there  should  exist  in  this  world  a  man 
with  a  heart  hard,  cruel,  and  barbarous  enough,  to 
resist  his  Dionysia's  prayers  and  tears,  especially  if 
they  were  backed  by  twenty  thousand  francs.  Never- 
theless, he  said  mournfully, — 

"  Ah !  I  told  you,  my  dear  child,  you  would  not 
succeed." 

"  And  you  were  mistaken,  dear  grandpa,  and  you 
are  still  mistaken ;  for  I  have  succeeded !  " 

"  But — you  bring  back  the  money  ?  " 

"  Because  I  have  found  an  honest  man,  dearest 
grandpa, — a  most  honorable  man.  Poor  fellow,  how 
I  must  have  tempted  his  honesty !  For  he  is  very 
much  embarrassed,  I  know  it  from  good  authority, 
ever  since  he  and  his  sisters  bought  that  house.  It 
was  more  than  comfort,  it  was  a  real  fortune,  I  offered 
him.  Ah !  you  ought  to  have  seen  how  his  eyes  bright- 
ened up,  and  how  his  hands  trembled,  when  he  took 
up  the  bonds !  Well,  he  refused  to  take  them,  after 
all ;  and  the  only  reward  he  asks  for  the  very  great 
service  which  he  is  going  to  render  us  " — 

M.  de  Chandore  expressed  his  assent  by  a  gesture, 
and  then  said, — 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     199 

"  You  are  right,  darling :  that  clerk  is  a  good  man, 
and  he  has  won  our  eternal  gratitude." 

"  I  ought  to  add,"  continued  Dionysia,  "  that  I  was 
ever  so  brave.  I  should  never  have  thought  that  I 
could  be  so  bold.  I  wish  you  had  been  hid  in  some 
corner,  grandpa,  to  see  me  and  hear  me.  You  would 
not  have  recognized  your  grandchild.  I  cried  a  little, 
it  is  true,  when  I  had  carried  my  point." 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear  child !  "  murmured  the  old  gentle- 
man, deeply  moved. 

"  You  see,  grandpa,  I  thought  of  nothing  but  of 
Jacques's  danger,  and  of  the  glory  of  proving  myself 
worthy  of  him,  who  is  so  brave  himself.  I  hope  he 
will  be  satisfied  with  me." 

"  He  would  be  hard  to  please,  indeed,  if  he  were 
not !  "  exclaimed  M.  de  Chandore. 

The  grandfather  and  his  child  were  standing  all  the 
while  under  the  trees  in  the  great  Square  while  they 
were  thus  talking  to  each  other;  and  already  a  num-- 
ber  of  people  had  taken  the  opportunity  of  passing 
close  by  them,  with  ears  wide  open,  and  all  eagerness, 
to  find  out  what  was  going  on :  it  is  a  way  peojJe  have 
in  small  towns.  Dionysia  remembered  the  clerk's 
kindly  warnings ;  and,  as  soon  as  she  became  aware  of 
it,  she  said  to  her  grandfather, — 

"  Come,  grandpa.  People  are  listening.  I  will 
tell  you  the  rest  as  we  are  going  home." 

And  so,  on  their  way,  she  told  him  all  the  little 
details  of  her  interview;  and  the  old  gentleman  de- 
clared, in  all  earnest,  that  he  did  not  know  which  to 
admire  most, — her  presence  of  mind,  or  Mechinet's 
disinterestedness. 

"  All  the  more  reason,"  said  the  young  girl,  "  why 
we  should  not  add  to  the  dangers  which  the  good  man 


200     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

is  going  to  run  for  us.  I  promised  him  to  tell  nobody, 
and  I  mean  to  keep  my  promise.  If  you  believe  me, 
dear  grandpa,  we  had  better  not  speak  of  it  to  any- 
body, not  even  to  my  aunts." 

"  You  might  just  as  well  declare  at  once,  little 
scamp,  that  you  want  to  save  Jacques  quite  alone,  with- 
out anybody's  help." 

"  Ah,  if  I  could  do  that !  Unfortunately,  we  must 
take  M.  Folgat  into  our  confidence;  for  we  cannot 
do  without  his  advice." 

Thus  it  was  done.  The  poor  aunts,  and  even  the 
marchioness,  had  to  be  content  with  Dionysia's  not 
very  plausible  explanation  of  her  visit.  And  a  few 
hours  afterwards,  M.  de  Chandore,  the  young  girl,  and 
M.  Folgat  held  a  council  in  the  baron's  study.  The 
young  lawyer  was  even  more  surprised  by  Dionysia's 
idea,  and  her  bold  proceedings,  than  her  grandfather : 
he  would  never  have  imagined  that  she  was  capable 
of  such  a  step,  she  looked  so  timid  and  innocent,  like 
a  mere  child.  He  was  about  to  compliment  her;  but 
she  interrupted  him  eagerly,  saying, — 

"  There  is  nothing  to  boast  of.     I  ran  no  risk." 

"  A  very  substantial  risk,  madam,  I  assure  you." 

"  Pshaw !  "  exclaimed  M.  de  Chandore. 

"  To  bribe  an  official,"  continued  M.  Folgat,  "  is  a 
very  grave  offence.  The  Criminal  Code  has  a  certain 
paragraph,  No.  179,  which  does  not  trifle,  and  pun- 
ishes the  man  who  bribes,  as  well  as  the  man  who  is 
bribed." 

"  Well,  so  much  the  better !  "  cried  Dionysia.  "  If 
poor  M.  Mechinet  has  to  go  to  prison,  I'll  go  with 
him ! " 

And,  without  noticing  the  dissatisfaction  expressed 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE     201 

in  her  grandfather's  features,  she  added,  turning  to 
M.  Folgat, — 

"  After  all,  sir,  you  see  that  your  wishes  have  been 
fulfilled.  We  shall  be  able  to  communicate  with  M.  de 
Boiscoran:  he  will  give  us  his  instructions." 

"  Perhaps  so,  madam." 

"  How  ?     Perhaps  ?    You  said  yourself  " — 

"  I  told  you,  madam,  it  would  be  useless,  perhaps 
even  imprudent,  to  take  any  steps  before  we  know  the 
truth.  But  will  we  know  it?  Do  you  think  that  M. 
de  Boiscoran,  who  has  good  reasons  for  being  suspi- 
cious of  every  thing,  will  at  once  tell  us  all  in  a  letter 
which  must  needs  pass  through  several  hands  before 
it  can  reach  us?" 

"  He  will  tell  us  all,  sir,  without  reserve,  without 
fear,  and  without  danger." 

"  Oh ! " 

"  I  have  taken  my  precautions.    You  will  see." 

"  Then  we  have  only  to  wait." 

Alas,  yes !  They  had  to  wait,  and  that  was  what 
distressed  Dionysia.  She  hardly  slept  that  night.  The 
next  day  was  one  unbroken  torment.  At  each 
ringing  of  the  bell,  she  trembled,  and  ran  to  see. 

At  last,  towards  five  o'clock,  when  nothing  had 
come,  she  said, — 

"It  is  not  to  be  to-day,  provided,  O  God !  that  poor 
Mechinet  has  not  been  caught." 

And,  perhaps  in  order  to  escape  for  a  time  the  an- 
guish of  her  fears,  she  agreed  to  accompany  Jacques's 
mother,  who  wanted  to  pay  some  visits. 

Ah,  if  she  had  but  known!  She  had  not  left  the 
house  ten  minutes,  when  one  of  those  street-boys,  who 
abound  at  all  hours  of  the  day  on  the  great  Square, 


202     WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

appeared,  bringing  a  letter  to  her  address.  They  took 
it  to  M.  de  Chandore,  who,  while  waiting  for  dinner, 
was  walking  in  the  garden  with  M.  Folgat. 

"  A  letter  for  Dionysia !  "  exclaimed  the  old  gentle- 
man, as  soon  as  the  servant  had  disappeared.  "  Here 
is  the  answer  we  have  been  waiting  for ! " 

He  boldly  tore  it  open.  Alas !  It  was  useless.  The 
note  within  the  envelope  ran  thus, — 

"31:9,  17,  19,  23,  25,  28,  32,  101,  102,  129,  137,  504, 
515—37:  2,  3,  4,  5,  7,  8,  10,  n,  13,  14,  24,  27,  52,  54, 
118,  119,  120,  200,  201—41:  7,  9,  17,  21,  22,  44,  45, 
46"- 

And  so  on,  for  two  pages. 

"  Look  at  this,  and  try  to  make  it  out,"  said  M.  de 
Chandore,  handing  the  letter  to  M.  Folgat. 

The  young  man  actually  tried  it;  but,  after  five 
minutes'  useless  efforts,  he  said, — 

"  I  understand  now  why  Miss  Chandore  promised 
us  that  we  should  know  the  truth.  M.  de  Boiscoran 
and  she  have  formerly  corresponded  with  each  other 
in  cipher." 

Grandpapa  Chandore  raised  his  hands  to  heaven. 

"  Just  think  of  these  little  girls !  Here  we  are  ut- 
terly helpless  without  her,  as  she  alone  can  translate 
those  hieroglyphics  for  you." 

If  Dionysia  had  hoped,  by  accompanying  the  mar- 
chioness on  her  visits,  to  escape  from  the  sad  pre- 
sentiments that  oppressed  her,  she  was  cruelly  disap- 
pointed. They  went  to  M.  Seneschal's  house  first; 
but  the  mayor's  wife  was  by  no  means  calculated  to 
give  courage  to  others  in  an  hour  of  peril.  She  could 
do  nothing  but  embrace  alternately  Jacques's  mother 
and  Dionysia,  and,  amid  a  thousand  sobs,  tell  them 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     203 

over  and  over  again,  that  she  looked  upon  one  as 
the  most  unfortunate  of  mothers,  and  upon  the  other 
as  the  most  unfortunate  of  betrothed  maidens. 

"  Does  the  woman  think  Jacques  is  guilty  ?  "  thought 
Dionysia,  and  felt  almost  angry. 

And  that  was  not  all.  As  they  returned  home,  and 
passed  the  house  which  had  been  provisionally  taken 
for  Count  Caludieuse  and  his  family,  they  heard  a 
little  boy  calling  out, — 

"  O  mamma,  come  quick  !  Here  are  the  murderer's 
mother  and  his  sweetheart." 

Thus  the  poor  girl  came  home  more  downcast  than 
before.  Immediately,  however,  her  maid,  who  had 
evidently  been  on  the  lookout  for  her  return,  told  her 
that  her  grandfather  and  the  lawyer  from  Paris  were 
waiting  for  her  in  the  baron's  study.  She  hastened 
there  without  stopping  to  take  off  her  bonnet ;  and,  as 
soon  as  she  came  in,  M.  de  Chandore  handed  her 
Jacques's  letter,  saying, — 

"  Here  is  your  answer." 

She  could  not  repress  a  little  cry  of  delight,  and 
rapidly  touched  the  letter  with  her  lips,  repeating, — 

"  Now  we  are  safe,  we  are  safe !  " 

M.  de  Chandore  smiled  at  the  happiness  of  his 
grand-daughter. 

"  But,  Miss  Hypocrite,"  he  said,  "  it  seems  you  had 
great  secrets  to  communicate  to  M.  de  Boiscoran,  since 
you  resorted  to  cipher,  like  arch  conspirators.  M.  Fol- 
gat  and  I  tried  to  read  it ;  but  it  was  all  Greek  to  us." 

Now  only  the  young  lady  remembered  M.  Folgat's 
presence,  and,  blushing  deeply,  she  said, — 

"  Latterly  Jacques  and  I  had  been  discussing  the 
various  methods  to  which  people  resort  who  wish  to 
carry  on  a  secret  correspondence :  this  led  him  to 


204    WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE 

teach  me  one  of  the  ways.  Two  correspondents  choose 
any  book  they  like,  and  each  takes  a  copy  of  the  same 
edition.  The  writer  looks  in  his  volume  for  the  words 
he  wants,  and  numbers  them ;  his  correspondent  finds 
them  by  the  aid  of  these  numbers.  Thus,  in  Jacques's 
letters,  the  numbers  followed  by  a  colon  refer  to  the 
page,  and  the  others  to  the  order  in  which  the  words 
come." 

"  Ah,  ah !  "  said  Grandpapa  Chandore,  "  I  might 
have  looked  a  long  time." 

"  It  is  a  very  simple  method,"  replied  Dionysia, 
"  very  well  known,  and  still  quite  safe.  How  could 
an  outsider  guess  what  book  the  correspondents  have 
chosen?  Then  there  are  other  means  to  mislead  in- 
discreet people.  It  may  be  agreed  upon,  for  instance, 
that  the  numbers  shall  never  have  their  apparent  value, 
or  that  they  shall  vary  according  to  the  day  of  the 
month  or  the  week.  Thus,  to-day  is  Monday,  the  sec- 
ond day  of  the  week.  Well,  I  have  to  deduct  one  from 
each  number  of  a  page,  and  add  one  to  each  number 
of  a  word." 

"  And  you  will  be  able  to  make  it  all  out  ?  "  asked 
M.  de  Chandore. 

"  Certainly,  dear  grandpa.  Ever  since  Jacques  ex- 
plained it  to  me,  I  have  tried  to  learn  it  as  a  matter  of 
course.  We  have  chosen  a  book  which  I  am  very  fond 
of,  Cooper's  '  Spy ; '  and  we  amused  ourselves  by  writ- 
ing endless  letters.  Oh !  it  is  very  amusing,  and  it 
takes  time,  because  one  does  not  always  find  the  words 
that  are  needed,  and  then  they  have  to  be  spelled  let- 
ter by  letter." 

"  And  M.  de  Boiscoran  has  a  copy  of  Cooper's 
novels  in  his  prison  ?  "  asked  M.  Folgat. 

"  Yes,  sir.     M.  Mechinet  told  me  so.     As  soon  as 


WITHIN   AN  INCH  OF  HIS   LIFE     205 

Jacques  found  he  was  to  be  kept  in  close  confinement, 
he  asked  for  some  of  Cooper's  novels ;  and  M.  Galpin, 
who  is  so  cunning,  so  smart,  and  so  suspicious,  went 
himself  and  got  them  for  him.  Jacques  was  counting 
upon  me." 

"  Then,  dear  child,  go  and  read  your  letter,  and 
solve  the  riddle,"  said  M.  de  Chandore. 

When  she  had  left,  he  said  to  his  companion, — 

"  How  she  loves  him !  How  she  loves  this  man 
Jacques !  Sir,  if  any  thing  should  happen  to  him,  she 
would  die." 

M.  Folgat  made  no  reply;  and  nearly  an  hour 
passed,  before  Dionysia,  shut  up  in  her  room,  had 
succeeded  in  finding  all  the  words  of  which  Jacques's 
letter  was  composed.  But  when  she  had  finished,  and 
came  back  to  her  grandfather's  study,  her  youthful 
face  expressed  the  most  profound  despair. 

"  This  is  horrible !  "  she  said. 

The  same  idea  crossed,  like  a  sharp  arrow,  the  minds 
of  M.  de  Chandore  and  M.  Folgat.  Had  Jacques  con- 
fessed? 

"  Look,  read  yourself !  "  said  Dionysia,  handing 
them  the  translation. 

Jacques  wrote, — 

"  Thanks  for  your  letter,  my  darling.  A  presenti- 
ment had  warned  me,  and  I  had  asked  for  a  copy  of 
Cooper. 

"  I  understand  but  too  well  how  grieved  you  must  be 
at  seeing  me  kept  in  prison  without  my  making  an  ef- 
fort to  establish  my  innocence.  I  kept  silence,  because 
I  hoped  the  proof  of  my  innocence  would  come  from 
outside.  I  see  that  it  would  be  madness  to  hope  so 
any  longer,  and  that  I  must  speak.  I  shall  speak.  But 
what  I  have  to  say  is  so  very  serious,  that  I  shall  keep 
silence  until  I  shall  have  had  an  opportunity  of  con- 


206     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

suiting  with  some  one  in  whom  I  can  feel  perfect  con- 
fidence. Prudence  alone  is  not  enough  now :  skill  also 
is  required.  Until  now  I  felt  secure,  relying  on  my 
innocence.  But  the  last  examination  has  opened  my 
eyes,  and  I  now  see  the  danger  to  which  I  am  exposed. 

"  I  shall  suffer  terribly  until  the  day  when  I  can  see 
a  lawyer.  Thank  my  mother  for  having  brought  one. 
I  hope  he  will  pardon  me,  if  I  address  myself  first  to 
another  man.  I  want  a  man  who  knows  the  country 
and  its  customs. 

"  That  is  why  I  have  chosen  M.  Magloire ;  and  I  beg 
you  will  tell  him  to  hold  himself  ready  for  the  day  on 
which,  the  examination  being  completed,  I  shall  be 
relieved  from  close  confinement. 

"  Until  then,  nothing  can  be  done,  nothing,  unless 

you  can  obtain  that  the  case  be  taken  out  of  M.  G 's 

hands,  and  be  given  to  some  one  else.  That  man  acts 
infamously.  He  wants  me  to  be  guilty.  He  would 
himself  commit  a  crime  in  order  to  charge  me  with  it, 
and  there  is  no  kind  of  trap  he  does  not  lay  for  me. 
I  have  the  greatest  difficulty  in  controlling  myself 
every  time  I  see  this  man  enter  my  cell,  who  was  my 
friend,  and  now  is  my  accuser. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  ones !  I  pay  a  heavy  price  for  a  fault 
of  which  I  have  been,  until  now,  almost  unconscious. 

"  And  you,  my  only  friend,  will  you  ever  be  able  to 
forgive  me  the  terrible  anxiety  I  cause  you? 

"  I  should  like  to  say  much  more ;  but  the  prisoner 
who  has  handed  me  your  note  says  I  must  be  quick, 
and  it  takes  so  much  time  to  pick  out  the  words !  J." 

When  the  letter  had  been  read,  M.  Folgat  and  M.  de 
Chandore  sadly  turned  their  heads  aside,  fearing  lest 
Dionysia  should  read  in  their  eyes  the  secret  of  their 
thoughts.  But  she  felt  only  too  well  what  it  meant. 

"  You  cannot  doubt  Jacques,  grandpapa  !  "  she  cried. 

"  No,"  murmured  the  old  gentleman  feebly,  "  no." 

"And  you,  M.  Folgat — are  you  so  much  hurt  by 
Jacques's  desire  to  consult  another  lawyer?" 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     207 

"  I  should  have  been  the  first,  madam,  to  advise  him 
to  consult  a  native." 

Dionysia  had  to  summon  all  her  energy  to  check  her 
tears. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  this  letter  is  terrible ;  but  how 
can  it  be  otherwise?  Don't  you  see  that  Jacques  is  in 
despair,  that  his  mind  wanders  after  all  these  fearful 
shocks?" 

Somebody  knocked  gently  at  the  door. 

"  It  is  I,"  said  the  marchioness. 

Grandpapa  Chandore,  M.  Folgat,  and  Dionysia 
looked  at  each  other  for  a  moment ;  and  then  the  advo- 
cate said, — 

"  The  situation  is  too  serious :  we  must  consult  the 
marchioness."  He  rose  to  open  the  door.  Since  the 
three  friends  had  been  holding  the  council  in  the 
baron's  study,  a  servant  had  come  five  times  in  succes- 
sion to  knock  at  the  door,  and  tell  them  that  the  soup 
was  on  the  table." 

"  Very  well,"  they  had  replied  each  time. 

At  last,  as  they  did  not  come  down  yet,  Jacques's 
mother  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  something  ex- 
traordinary had  occurred. 

"  Now,  what  could  this  be,  that  they  should  keep  it 
from  her  ?  "  she  thought.  "  If  it  were  something  good, 
they  would  not  have  concealed  it  from  her.  She  had 
come  up  stairs,  therefore,  with  the  firm  resolution  to 
force  them  to  let  her  come  in.  When  M.  Folgat 
opened  the  door,  she  said  instantly,— 

"  I  mean  to  know  all !  " 

Dionysia  replied  to  her, — 

"  Whatever  you  may  hear,  my  dear  mother,  pray 
remember,  that  if  you  allow  a  single  word  to  be  torn 
from  you,  by  joy  or  by  sorrow,  you  cause  the  ruin  of 


2o8     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

an  honest  man,  who  has  put  us  all  under  such  obliga- 
tions as  can  never  be  fully  discharged.  I  have  been 
fortunate  enough  to  establish  a  correspondence  be- 
tween Jacques  and  us." 

"  O  Dionysia !  " 

"  I  have  written  to  him,  and  I  have  received  his 
answer.  Here  it  is." 

The  marchioness  was  almost  beside  herself,  and 
eagerly  snatched  at  the  letter.  But,  as  she  read  on,  it 
was  fearful  to  see  how  the  blood  receded  from  her 
face,  how  her  eyes  grew  dim,  her  lips  turned  pale, 
and  at  last  her  breath  failed  to  come.  The  letter 
slipped  from  her  trembling  hands;  she  sank  into  a 
chair,  and  said,  stammering, — 

"  It  is  no  use  to  struggle  any  longer :  we  are  lost ! " 

There  was  something  grand  in  Dionysia's  gesture, 
and  the  admirable  accent  of  her  voice,  as  she  said, — 

"Why  don't  you  say  at  once,  my  mother,  that 
Jacques  is  an  incendiary  and  an  assassin?" 

Raising  her  head  with  an  air  of  dauntless  energy, 
with  trembling  lips,  and  fierce  glances  full  of  wrath 
and  disdain,  she  added, — 

"  And  do  I  really  remain  the  only  one  to  defend 
him, — him,  who,  in  his  days  of  prosperity,  had  so 
many  friends?  Well,  so  be  it !  " 

Naturally,  M.  Folgat  had  been  less  deeply  moved 
than  either  the  marchioness  or  M.  de  Chandore ;  and 
hence  he  was  also  the  first  to  recover  his  calmness. 

"We  shall  be  two,  madam,  at  all  events,"  he  said: 
"  for  I  should  never  forgive  myself,  if  I  allowed  myself 
to  be  influenced  by  that  letter.  I  would  be  inex- 
cusable, since  I  know  by  experience  what  your  heart 
has  told  you  instinctively.  Imprisonment  has  horrors 
which  affect  the  strongest  and  stoutest  of  minds.  The 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     209 

days  in  prison  are  interminable,  and  the  nights  have 
nameless  terrors.  The  innocent  man  in  his  lonely  cell 
feels  as  if  he  were  becoming  guilty,  as  the  man  of 
soundest  intellect  would  begin  to  doubt  himself  in  a 
madhouse  " — 

Dionysia  did  not  let  him  conclude.    She  cried, — 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  felt,  sir ;  but  I  could  not 
express  it  as  clearly  as  you  do." 

Ashamed  at  their  lack  of  courage,  M.  de  Chandore 
and  the  marchioness  made  an  effort  to  recover  from 
the  doubts  which,  for  a  moment,  had  well-nigh  over- 
come them. 

"  But  what  is  to  be  done?"  asked  the  old  lady. 

"  Your  son  tells  us,  madam,  we  have  only  to  wait 
for  the  end  of  the  preliminary  examination." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  M.  de  Chandore,  "  we 
have  to  try  to  get  the  case  handed  over  to  another 
magistrate." 

M.  Folgat  shook  his  head. 

"  Unfortunately,  that  is  not  to  be  dreamt  of.  A 
magistrate  acting  in  his  official  capacity  cannot  be  re- 
jected like  a  simple  juryman." 

"  However  "— 

"Article  542  of  the  Criminal  Code  is  positive  on 
the  subject." 

"Ah!    What  does  it  say?"  asked  Dionysia. 

"  It  says,  in  substance,  madam,  that  a  demand  for 
a  change  of  magistrate,  on  the  score  of  well-founded 
suspicion,  can  only  be  entertained  by  a  court  of  ap- 
peals, because  the  magistrate,  within  his  legitimate 
sphere,  is  a  court  in  himself.  I  do  not  know  if  I  ex- 
press myself  clearly?" 

"  Oh,  very  clearly !  "  said  M.  de  Chandore.  "  Only, 
since  Jacques  wishes  it"— 


210     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  To  be  sure ;  but  M.  de  Boiscoran  does  not  know  " — 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  He  knows  that  the  magistrate 
is  his  mortal  enemy." 

"  Be  it  so.  But  how  would  that  help  us  ?  Do  you 
think  that  a  demand  for  a  change  of  venue  would  pre- 
vent M.  Galpin  from  carrying  on  his  proceedings? 
Not  at  all.  He  would  go  on  until  the  decision  comes 
from  the  Court  of  Appeals.  He  could,  it  is  true,  issue 
no  final  order;  but  that  is  the  very  thing  M.  de  Boisco- 
ran ought  to  desire,  since  such  an  order  would  make 
an  end  to  his  close  confinement,  and  enable  him  to 
see  an  advocate." 

"  That  is  atrocious ! "  murmured  M.  de  Chandore. 

"  It  is  atrocious,  indeed ;  but  such  are  the  laws  of 
France." 

In  the  meantime  Dionysia  had  been  meditating; 
and  now  she  said  to  the  young  advocate, — 

"  I  have  understood  you  perfectly,  and  to-morrow 
your  objections  shall  be  known  to  M.  de  Boiscoran." 

"  Above  all,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  explain  to  him 
clearly  that  any  such  steps  as  he  proposes  to  take  will 
turn  to  his  disadvantage.  M.  Galpin  is  our  enemy ; 
but  we  can  make  no  specific  charge  against  him.  They 
would  always  reply,  '  If  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  innocent, 
why  does  he  not  speak  ?  ' ' 

This  is  what  Grandpapa  Chandore  would  not  admit. 

"  Still,"  he  said,  "  if  we  could  bring  influential  men 
to  help  us?" 

"Can  you?" 

"  Certainly.  Boiscoran  has  old  friends,  who,  no 
doubt,  are  all-powerful  still  under  the  present  govern- 
ment. He  was,  in  former  years,  very  intimate  with 
M.  de  Margeril." 

Mr.  Folgat's  expression  was  very  encouraging. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     211 

"  Ah ! "  he  said,  "  if  M.  de  Margeril  could  give  us 
a  lift!  But  he  is  not  easily  approached." 

"  We  might  send  Boiscoran  to  see  him,  at  least. 
Since  he  remained  in  Paris  for  the  purpose  of  assisting 
us  there,  now  he  will  have  an  opportunity.  I  will 
write  to  him  to-night." 

Since  the  name  of  Margeril  had  been  mentioned,  the 
marchioness  had  become,  if  possible,  paler  than  ever. 
At  the  old  gentleman's  last  words  she  rose,  and  said 
anxiously, — 

"  Do  not  write,  sir :  it  would  be  useless.  I  do  not 
wish  it." 

Her  embarrassment  was  so  evident,  that  the  others 
were  quite  surprised. 

"  Have  Boiscoran  and  M.  de  Margeril  had  any  diffi- 
culty ?  "  asked  M.  de  Chandore. 

"  Yes." 

"  But,"  cried  Dionysia,  "  it  is  a  matter  of  life  and 
death  for  Jacques." 

Alas !  The  poor  woman  could  not  speak  of  the  sus- 
picions which  had  darkened  the  whole  life  of  the  Mar- 
quis de  Boiscoran,  nor  of  the  cruel  penalty  which  the 
wife  was  now  called  upon  to  pay  for  a  slight  impru- 
dence. 

"  If  it  is  absolutely  necessary,"  she  said  with  a  half- 
stifled  voice,  "  if  that  is  our  very  last  hope,  then  I  will 
go  and  see  M.  de  Margeril  myself." 

M.  Folgat  was  the  only  one  who  suspected  what 
painful  antecedents  there  might  be  in  the  life  of  the 
marchioness,  and  how  she  was  harassed  by  their  mem- 
ory now.  He  interposed,  therefore,  saying, — 

"  At  all  events,  my  advice  is  to  await  the  end  of  the 
preliminary  investigation.  I  may  be  mistaken,  how- 
ever; and,  before  any  answer  is  sent  to  M.  Jacques,  I 


212     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF  HIS   LIFE 

desire  that  the  lawyer  to  whom  he  alludes  should  be 
consulted." 

"  That  is  certainly  the  wisest  plan,'*  said  M.  de 
Chandore.  And,  ringing  for  a  servant,  he  sent  him  at 
once  to  M.  Magloire,  to  ask  him  to  call  after  dinner. 
Jacques  de  Boiscoran  had  chosen  wisely.  M.  Magloire 
was  looked  upon  in  Sauveterre  as  the  most  eloquent 
and  most  skilful  lawyer,  not  only  of  the  district,  but 
of  the  whole  province.  And  what  is  rarer  still,  and 
far  more  glorious,  he  had,  besides,  the  reputation  of 
being  unsurpassed  in  integrity  and  a  high  sense  of 
honor.  It  was  well  known  that  he  would  never  have 
consented  to  plead  a  doubtful  cause ;  and  they  told  of 
him  a  number  of  heroic  stories,  in  which  he  had  thrown 
clients  out  of  the  window,  who  had  been  so  ill-advised 
as  to  come  to  him,  money  in  hand,  to  ask  him  to  under- 
take an  unclean  case.  He  was  naturally  not  a  rich 
man,  and  preserved,  at  fifty-four  or  five,  all  the  habits 
of  a  frugal  and  thrifty  young  man. 

After  having  married  quite  young,  M.  Magloire  had 
lost  his  wife  after  a  few  months,  and  had  never  recov- 
ered from  the  loss.  Although  thirty  years  old,  the 
wound  had  never  healed;  and  regularly,  on  certain 
days,  he  was  seen  wending  his  way  to  the  cemetery, 
to  place  flowers  on  a  modest  grave  there.  Any  other 
man  would  have  been  laughed  at  for  such  a  thing  at 
Sauveterre;  but  with  him  they  dared  not  do  so,  for 
they  all  respected  him  highly.  Young  and  old  knew 
and  reverenced  the  tall  man  with  the  calm,  serene  face, 
the  clear,  bright  eyes,  and  the  eloquent  lips,  which,  in 
their  well-cut,  delicate  lines,  by  turns  glowed  with 
scorn,  with  tenderness,  or  with  disdain. 

Like  Dr.  Seignebos,  M.  Magloire  also  was  a  Re- 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     213 

publican ;  and,  at  the  last  Imperial  elections,  the  Bona- 
partists  had  had  the  greatest  trouble,  aided  though 
they  were  by  the  whole  influence  of  the  government, 
and  shrinking  from  no  unfair  means,  to  keep  him  out 
of  the  Chamber.  Nor  would  they  have  been  successful 
after  all,  but  for  the  influence  of  Count  Claudieuse, 
who  had  prevailed  upon  a  number  of  electors  to  ab- 
stain from  voting. 

This  was  the  man,  who,  towards  nine  o'clock,  pre- 
sented himself,  upon  the  invitation  of  M.  de  Chandore, 
at  his  house,  where  he  was  anxiously  expected  by  all 
the  inmates.  His  greeting  was  affectionate,  but  at  the 
same  time  so  sad,  that  it  touched  Dionysia's  heart  most 
painfully.  She  thought  she  saw  that  M.  Magloire  was 
not  far  from  believing  Jacques  guilty. 

And  she  was  not  mistaken ;  for  M.  Magloire  let  them 
see  it  clearly,  in  the  most  delicate  manner,  to  be  sure, 
but  still  so  as  to  leave  no  doubt.  He  had  spent  the  day 
in  court,  and  there  had  heard  the  opinions  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  court,  which  was  by  no  means  favorable  to 
the  accused.  Under  such  circumstances,  it  would  have 
evidently  been  a  grave  blunder  to  yield  to  Jacques's 
wishes,  and  to  apply  for  a  change  of  venue  from  M. 
Galpin  to  some  other  magistrate. 

"  The  investigation  will  last  a  year,"  cried  Dionysia, 
"  since  M.  Galpin  is  determined  to  obtain  from  Jacques 
the  confession  of  a  crime  which  he  has  not  committed." 

M.  Magloire  shook  his  head,  and  replied, — 

"  I  believe,  on  the  contrary,  madam,  that  the  inves- 
tigation will  be  very  soon  concluded." 

"  But  if  Jacques  keeps  silent  ?  " 

"  Neither  the  silence  of  an  accused,  nor  any  other 
caprice  or  obstinacy  of  his,  can  interfere  with  the 


214     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

regular  process.  Called  upon  to  produce  his  justifica- 
tion, if  he  refuses  to  do  so,  the  law  proceeds  without 
him." 

"  Still,  sir,  if  an  accused  person  has  reasons  " — 

"  There  are  no  reasons  which  can  force  a  man  to  let 
himself  be  accused  unjustly.  But  even  that  case  has 
been  foreseen.  The  accused  is  at  liberty  not  to  an- 
swer a  question  which  may  inculpate  him.  Nemo  tene- 
tur  prodere  se  ipsum.  But  you  must  admit  that  such 
a  refusal  to  answer  justifies  a  judge  in  believing  that 
the  charges  are  true  which  the  accused  does  not  re- 
fute." 

The  great  calmness  of  the  distinguished  lawyer  of 
Sauveterre  terrified  his  listeners  more  and  more,  ex- 
cept M.  Folgat.  When  they  heard  him  use  all  those 
technical  terms,  they  felt  chilled  through  and  through, 
like  the  friends  of  a  wounded  man  who  hear  the  grat- 
ing noise  of  the  surgeon's  knife. 

"  My  son's  situation  appears  to  you  very  serious, 
sir?"  asked  the  marchioness  in  a  feeble  voice. 

"  I  said  it  was  dangerous,  madam." 

"  You  think,  as  M.  Folgat  does,  that  every  day  adds 
to  the  danger  to  which  he  is  exposed  ?  " 

"  I  am  but  too  sure  of  that.  And  if  M.  de  Bois- 
coran  is  really  innocent  " — 

"  Ah,  M.  Magloire !  "  broke  in  Dionysia,  "  how  can 
you,  who  are  a  friend  of  Jacques,  say  so  ?  " 

M.  Magloire  looked  at  the  young  girl  with  an  air  of 
deep  and  sincere  pity,  and  then  said, — 

"  It  is  precisely  because  I  am  his  friend,  madam, 
that  I  am  bound  to  tell  you  the  truth.  Yes,  I  know 
and  I  appreciate  all  the  noble  qualities  which  distin- 
guish M.  de  Boiscoran.  I  have  loved  him,  and  I  love 
him  still.  But  this  is  a  matter  which  we  have  to  look 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     215 

at  with  the  mind,  and  not  with  the  heart.  Jacques  is 
a  man ;  and  he  will  be  judged  by  men.  There  is  clear, 
public,  and  absolute  evidence  of  his  guilt  on  hand. 
What  evidence  has  he  to  offer  of  his  innocence  ?  Moral 
evidence  only." 

"  O  God !  "  murmured  Dionysia. 

"  I  think,  therefore,  with  my  honorable  brother  " — 

And  M.  Magloire  bowed  to  M.  Folgat. 

"  I  think,  that,  if  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  innocent,  he 
has  adopted  an  unfortunate  system.  Ah!  if  luckily 
there  should  be  an  alibi.  He  ought  to  make  haste, 
great  haste,  to  establish  it.  He  ought  not  to  allow  mat- 
ters to  go  on  till  he  is  sent  up  into  court.  Once  there, 
an  accused  is  three-fourths  condemned  already." 

For  once  it  looked  as  if  the  crimson  in  M.  de  Chan- 
dore's  cheeks  was  growing  pale. 

"  And  yet,"  he  exclaimed,  "  Jacques  will  not  change 
his  system:  any  one  who  knows  his  mulish  obstinacy 
might  be  quite  sure  of  that." 

"  And  unfortunately  he  has  made  up  his  mind,"  said 
Dionysia,  "  as  M.  Magloire,  who  knows  him  so  well, 
will  see  from  this  letter  of  his." 

Until  now  nothing  had  been  said  to  let  the  Sauve- 
terre  lawyer  suspect  that  communications  had  been  op- 
ened with  the  prisoner.  Now  that  the  letter  had  been 
alluded  to,  it  became  necessary  to  take  him  into  confi- 
dence. At  first  he  was  astonished,  then  he  looked  dis- 
pleased; and,  when  he  had  been  told  every  thing,  he 
said, — 

:'  This  is  great  imprudence !     This  is  too  daring !  " 

Then  looking  at  M.  Folgat,  he  added, — 

"  Our  profession  has  certain  rules  which  cannot  be 
broken  without  causing  trouble.  To  bribe  a  clerk,  to 
profit  by  his  weakness  and  his  sympathy  " — 


216     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

The  Paris  lawyer  had  blushed  imperceptibly.  He 
said, — 

"  I  should  never  have  advised  such  imprudence ;  but, 
when  it  was  once  committed,  I  did  not  feel  bound  to  in- 
sist upon  its  being-  abandoned:  and  even  if  I  should 
be  blamed  for  it,  or  more,  I  mean  to  profit  by  it." 

M.  Magloire  did  not  reply;  but,  after  having  read 
Jacques's  letter,  he  said, — 

"  I  am  at  M.  de  Boiscoran's  disposal ;  and  I  shall  go 
to  him  as  soon  as  he  is  no  longer  in  close  confinement. 
I  think,  as  Miss  Dionysia  does,  that  he  will  insist  upon 
saying  nothing.  However,  as  we  have  the  means  of 
reaching  him  by  letter, — well,  here  I  am  myself  ready 
to  profit  by  the  imprudence  that  has  been  committed ! 
— beseech  him,  in  the  name  of  his  own  interest,  in  the 
name  of  all  that  is  dear  to  him,  to  speak,  to  explain, 
to  prove  his  innocence." 

Thereupon  M.  Magloire  bowed,  and  withdrew  sud- 
denly, leaving  his  audience  in  consternation,  so  very 
evident  was  it,  that  he  left  so  suddenly  in  order  to  con- 
ceal the  painful  impression  which  Jacques's  letter  had 
produced  upon  him. 

"  Certainly,"  said  M.  de  Chandore,  "  we  will  write 
to  him;  but  we  might  just  as  well  whistle.  He  will 
wait  for  the  end  of  the  investigation." 

"  Who  knows  ?  "  murmured  Dionysia. 

And,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  she  added, — 

"  We  can  try,  however." 

And,  without  vouchsafing  any  further  explanation, 
she  left  the  room,  and  hastened  to  her  chamber  to  write 
the  following  letter : — 

"  I  must  speak  to  you.  There  is  a  little  gate  in  our 
garden  which  opens  upon  Charity  Lane.  I  will  wait 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     217 

for  you  there.    However  late  it  may  be  when  you  get 
these  lines,  come! 

"  DlONYSIA." 

Then  having  put  the  note  into  an  envelope,  she  called 
the  old  nurse,  who  had  brought  her  up,  and,  with  all 
the  recommendations  which  extreme  prudence  could 
suggest,  she  said  to  her, — 

"  You  must  see  to  it  that  M.  Mechinet  the  clerk  gets 
this  note  to-night.  Go !  make  haste !  " 


IX. 

DURING  the  last  twenty-four  hours,  Mechinet  had 
changed  so  much,  that  his  sisters  recognized  him  no 
longer.  Immediately  after  Dionysia's  departure,  they 
had  come  to  him,  hoping  to  hear  at  last  what  was 
meant  by  that  mysterious  interview;  but  at  the  first 
word  he  had  cried  out  with  a  tone  of  voice  which 
frightened  his  sisters  to  death, — 

"  That  is  none  of  your  business !  That  is  nobody's 
business ! "  And  he  had  remained  alone,  quite  over- 
come by  his  adventure,  and  dreaming  of  the  means  to 
make  good  his  promise  without  ruining  himself.  That 
was  no  easy  matter. 

When  the  decisive  moment  arrived,  he  discovered 
that  he  would  never  be  able  to  get  the  note  into  M.  de 
Boiscoran's  hands,  without  being  caught  by  that  lynx- 
eyed  M.  Galpin:  as  the  letter  was  burning  in  his 
pocket,  he  saw  himself  compelled,  after  long  hesitation, 
to  appeal  for  help  to  the  man  who  waited  on  Jacques, 
— to  Trumence,  in  fine.  The  latter  was,  after  all,  a 
good  enough  fellow ;  his  only  besetting  sin  being  un- 
conquerable laziness,  and  his  only  crime  in  the  eyes  of 


2i8     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

the  law  perpetual  vagrancy.  He  was  attached  to 
Mechinet,  who  upon  former  occasions,  when  he  was  in 
jail,  had  given  him  some  tobacco,  or  a  little  money  to 
buy  a  glass  of  wine.  He  made  therefore  no  objection, 
when  the  clerk  asked  him  to  give  a  letter  to  M.  de 
Boiscoran,  and  to  bring  back  an  answer.  He  acquitted 
himself,  moreover,  faithfully  and  honestly  of  his  com- 
mission. But,  because  every  thing  had  gone  well  once, 
it  did  not  follow  that  Mechinet  felt  quite  at  peace. 
Besides  being  tormented  by  the  thought  that  he  had  be- 
trayed his  duty,  he  felt  wretched  in  being  at  the  mercy 
of  an  accomplice.  How  easily  might  he  not  be  be- 
trayed! A  slight  indiscretion,  an  awkward  blunder, 
an  unlucky  accident,  might  do  it.  What  would  become 
of  him  then? 

He  would  lose  his  place  and  all  his  other  employ- 
ments, one  by  one.  He  would  lose  confidence  and 
consideration.  Farewell  to  all  ambitious  dreams,  all 
hopes  of  wealth,  all  dreams  of  an  advantageous  mar- 
riage. And  still,  by  an  odd  contradiction,  Mechinet  did 
not  repent  what  he  had  done,  and  felt  quite  ready  to  do 
it  over  again.  He  was  in  this  state  of  mind  when  the 
old  nurse  brought  him  Dionysia's  letter. 

"What,  again?"  he  exclaimed. 

And  when  he  had  read  the  few  lines,  he  replied, — 

"  Tell  your  mistress  I  will  be  there !  "  But  in  his 
heart  he  thought  some  untoward  event  must  have 
happened. 

The  little  garden-gate  was  half  open :  he  had  only  to 
push  it  to  enter.  There  was  no  moon ;  but  the  night 
was  clear,  and  at  a  short  distance  from  him,  under  the 
trees,  he  recognized  Dionysia,  and  went  towards  her. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  she  said,  "  for  having  dared  to 
send  for  you." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     219 

Mechinet's  anxiety  vanished  instantly.  He  thought 
no  longer  of  his  strange  position.  His  vanity  was  flat- 
tered by  the  confidence  which  this  young  lady  put  in 
him,  whom  he  knew  very  well  as  the  noblest,  the  most 
beautiful,  and  the  richest  heiress  in  the  whole  country. 

"  You  were  quite  right  to  send  for  me,  madam,"  he 
replied,  "  if  I  can  be  of  any  service  to  you." 

In  a  few  words  she  had  told  him  all ;  and,  when  she 
asked  his  advice,  he  replied, — 

"  I  am  entirely  of  M.  Folgat's  opinion,  and  think 
that  grief  and  isolation  begin  to  have  their  effect  upon 
M.  de  Boiscoran's  mind." 

"  Oh,  that  thought  is  maddening !  "  murmured  the 
poor  girl. 

"  I  think,  as  M.  Magloire  does,  that  M.  de  Boiscoran, 
by  his  silence,  only  makes  his  situation  much  worse. 
I  have  a  proof  of  that.  M.  Galpin,  who,  at  first,  was  all 
doubt  and  anxiety,  is  now  quite  reassured.  The  attor- 
ney-general has  written  him  a  letter,  in  which  he  com- 
pliments his  energy." 

"  And  then." 

"  Then  we  must  induce  M.  de  Boiscoran  to  speak. 
I  know  very  well  that  he  is  firmly  resolved  not  to 
speak ;  but  if  you  were  to  write  to  him,  since  you  can 
write  to  him  " — 

"  A  letter  would  be  useless."    x 

«  But  "— 

"  Useless,  I  tell  you.    But  I  know  a  means." 

"  You  must  use  it  promptly,  madam :  don't  lose  a 
moment.  There  is  no  time." 

The  night  was  clear,  but  not  clear  enough  for  the 
clerk  to  see  how  very  pale  Dionysia  was. 

"  Well,  then,  I  must  see  M.  de  Boiscoran :  I  must 
speak  to  him." 


220     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

She  expected  the  clerk  to  start,  to  cry  out,  to  pro- 
test. Far  from  it :  he  said  in  the  quietest  tone, — 

"  To  be  sure ;  but  how  ?  " 

"  Blangin  the  keeper,  and  his  wife,  keep  their  places 
only  because  they  give  them  a  support.  Why  might 
I  not  offer  them,  in  return  for  an  interview  with  M. 
de  Boiscoran,  the  means  to  go  and  live  in  the 
country  ?  " 

"  Why  not?  "  said  the  clerk. 

And  in  a  lower  voice,  replying  to  the  voice  of  his 
conscience,  he  went  on, — 

"  The  jail  in  Sauveterre  is  not  at  all  like  the  police- 
stations  and  prisons  of  larger  towns.  The  prisoners 
are  few  in  number:  they  are  hardly  guarded.  When 
the  doors  are  shut,  Blangin  is  master  within." 

"  I  will  go  and  see  him  to-morrow,"  declared  Diony- 
sia. 

There  are  certain  slopes  on  which  you  must  glide 
down.  Having  once  yielded  to  Dionysia's  suggestions, 
Mechinet  had,  unconsciously,  bound  himself  to  her  for- 
ever. 

"  No :  do  not  go  there,  madam,"  he  said.  "  You 
could  not  make  Blangin  believe  that  he  runs  no  dan- 
ger; nor  could  you  sufficiently  arouse  his  cupidity.  I 
will  speak  to  him  myself." 

"  O  sir !  "  exclaimed  Dionysia,  "  how  can  I  ever?  " — 

"  How  much  may  I  offer  him  ?  "  asked  the  clerk. 

"  Whatever  you  think  proper — any  thing." 

"  Then,  madam,  I  will  bring  you  an  answer  to- 
morrow, here,  and  at  the  same  hour." 

And  he  went  away,  leaving  Dionysia  so  buoyed  up 
by  hope,  that  all  the  evening,  and  the  next  day,  the 
two  aunts  and  the  marchioness,  neither  of  whom  was  in 
the  secret,  asked  each  other  incessantly, — 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF  HIS   LIFE     221 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  the  child  ?  " 

She  was  thinking,  that,  if  the  answer  was  favorable, 
ere  twenty-four  hours  had  gone  by,  she  would  see 
Jacques;  and  she  kept  saying  to  herself, — 

"  If  only  Mechinet  is  punctual !  " 

He  was  so.  At  ten  o'clock  precisely,  he  pushed  open 
the  little  gate,  just  as  the  night  before,  and  said  at 
once, — 

"It  is  all  right!" 

Dionysia  was  so  terribly  excited,  that  she  had  to  lean 
against  a  tree. 

"  Blangin  agrees,"  the  clerk  went  on.  "  I  promised 
him  sixteen  thousand  francs.  Perhaps  that  is  rather 
much?" 

"  It  is  very  little." 

"  He  insists  upon  having  them  in  gold." 

"  He  shall  have  it." 

"  Finally,  he  makes  certain  conditions  with  regard 
to  the  interview,  which  will  appear  rather  hard  to  you." 

The  young  girl  had  quite  recovered  by  this  time. 

"What  are  they?" 

"  Blangin  is  taking  all  possible  precautions  against 
detection,  although  he  is  quite  prepared  for  the  worst. 
He  has  arranged  it  this  way:  To-morrow  evening,  at 
six  o'clock,  you  will  pass  by  the  jail.  The  door  will 
stand  open,  and  Blangin's  wife,  whom  you  know  very 
well,  as  she  has  formerly  been  in  your  service,  will  be 
standing  in  the  door.  If  she  does  not  speak  to  you, 
you  keep  on:  something  has  happened.  If  she  does 
speak  to  you,  go  up  to  her,  you,  quite  alone,  and  she 
will  show  you  into  a  small  room  which  adjoins  her 
own.  There  you  will  stay  till  Blangin,  perhaps  at  a 
late  hour,  thinks  he  can  safely  take  you  to  M.  de  Bois- 
coran's  cell.  When  the  interview  is  over,  you  come 


222     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

back  into  the  little  room,  where  a  bed  will  be  ready  for 
you,  and  you  spend  the  night  there;  for  this  is  the 
hardest  part  of  it :  you  cannot  leave  the  prison  till  next 
day." 

This  was  certainly  terrible;  still,  after  a  moment's 
reflection,  Dionysia  said, — 

"  Never  mind !  I  accept.  Tell  Blangin,  M.  Mechi- 
net,  that  it  is  all  right." 

That  Dionysia  should  accept  all  the  conditions  of 
Blangin  the  jailer  was  perfectly  natural ;  but  to  ob- 
tain M.  de  Chandore's  consent  was  a  much  more  diffi- 
cult task.  The  poor  girl  understood  this  so  well,  that, 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  felt  embarrassed  in 
her  grandfather's  presence.  She  hesitated,  she  pre- 
pared her  little  speech,  and  she  selected  carefully  her 
words.  But  in  spite  of  all  her  skill,  in  spite  of  all  the 
art  with  which  she  managed  to  present  her  strange  re- 
quest, M.  de  Chandore  had  no  sooner  understood  her 
project  than  he  exclaimed, — 

"  Never,  never,  never ! " 

Perhaps  in  his  whole  life  the  old  gentleman  had 
never  expressed  himself  in  so  positive  a  manner.  His 
brow  had  never  looked  so  dark.  Usually,  when  his 
grand-daughter  had  a  petition,  his  lips  might  say, 
"  No ;  "  but  his  eyes  always  said,  "  Yes." 

"  Impossible !  "  he  repeated,  and  in  a  tone  of  voice 
which  seemed  to  admit  of  no  reply. 

Surely,  in  all  these  painful  events,  he  had  not  spared 
himself,  and  he  had  so  far  done  for  Dionysia  all  that 
she  could  possibly  expect  of  him.  Her  will  had  been 
his  will.  As  she  had  prompted,  he  had  said,  "  Yes,"  or 
"  No."  What  more  could  he  have  said  or  done? 

Without  telling  him  what  she  was  going  to  do  with 
it,  Dionysia  had  asked  him  for  twenty  thousand  francs, 


WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     223 

and  he  had  given  them  to  her,  however  big  the  sum 
might  be  everywhere,  however  immense  in  a  small 
town  like  Sauveterre.  He  was  quite  ready  to  give  her 
as  much  again,  or  twice  as  much,  without  asking  any 
more  questions. 

But  for  Dionysia  to  leave  her  home  one  evening  at 
six  o'clock,  and  not  to  return  to  it  till  the  next  morn- 
ing— 

"  That  I  cannot  permit,"  he  repeated. 

But  for  Dionysia  to  spend  a  night  in  the  Sauveterre 
jail,  in  order  to  have  an  interview  with  her  betrothed, 
who  was  accused  of  incendiarism  and  murder;  to  re- 
main there  all  night,  alone,  absolutely  at  the  mercy  of 
the  jailer,  a  hard,  coarse,  covetous  man — 

"  That  I  will  never  permit,"  exclaimed  the  old  gen- 
tleman once  more. 

Dionysia  remained  calm,  and  let  the  storm  pass. 
When  her  grandfather  became  silent,  she  said, — 

"But  if  I  must?" 

M.  de  Chandore  shrugged  his  shoulders.  She  re- 
peated in  a  louder  tone, — 

"  If  I  must,  in  order  to  decide  Jacques  to  abandon 
this  system  that  will  ruin  him,  to  induce  him  to  speak 
before  the  investigation  is  completed  ?  " 

"  That  is  not  your  business,  my  child,"  said  the  old 
gentleman. 

"Oh!" 

"  That  is  the  business  of  his  mother,  the  Marchioness 
of  Boiscoran.  Whatever  Blangin  agrees  to  venture  for 
your  sake,  he  will  do  as  well  for  her  sake.  Let  the 
marchioness  go  and  spend  the  night  at  the  jail.  I  agree 
to  that.  Let  her  see  her  son.  That  is  her  duty." 

"  But  surely  she  will  never  shake  Jacques's  resolu- 
tion." 


224     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  And  you  think  you  have  more  influence  over  him 
than  his  mother?" 

"  It  is  not  the  same  thing,  dear  papa." 

"  Never  mind !  " 

This  "  never  mind  "  of  Grandpapa  Chandore  was  as 
positive  as  his  "  impossible ;  "  but  he  had  begun  to  dis- 
cuss the  question,  and  to  discuss  means  to  listen  to  ar- 
guments on  the  other  side. 

"  Do  not  insist,  my  dear  child,"  he  said  again.  "  My 
mind  is  made  up ;  and  I  assure  you  " — 

"  Don't  say  so,  papa,"  said  the  young  girl. 

And  her  attitude  was  so  determined,  and  her  voice 
so  firm,  that  the  old  gentleman  was  quite  overwhelmed 
for  a  moment. 

"  But,  if  I  am  not  willing,"  he  said. 

"  You  will  consent,  dear  papa,  you  will  certainly 
not  force  your  little  grand-daughter,  who  loves  you  so 
dearly,  to  the  painful  necessity  of  disobeying  you  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life." 

"  Because,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  I  am  not 
doing  what  my  grand-daughter  wants  me  to  do?  " 

"  Dear  papa,  let  me  tell  you." 

"  Rather  listen  to  me,  poor  dear  child,  and  let  me 
show  you  to  what  dangers,  to  what  misfortunes,  you 
expose  yourself.  To  go  and  spend  a  night  at  that 
prison  would  be  risking  (understand  me  well)  your 
honor, — that- tender,  delicate  honor  which  is  tarnished 
by  a  breath,  which  involves  the  happiness  and  the  peace 
of  your  whole  life." 

"  But  Jacques's  honor  and  life  are  at  stake." 

"  Poor  imprudent  girl !  How  do  you  know  but  he 
would  be  the  very  first  to  blame  you  cruelly  for  such 
a  step?" 

"He?" 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE     225 

"  Men  are  made  so :  the  most  perfect  devotion  irri- 
tates them  at  times." 

"  Be  it  so.  I  would  rather  endure  Jacques's  unjust 
reproaches  than  the  idea  of  not  having  done  my  duty." 

M.  de  Chandore  began  to  despair. 

"  And  if  I  were  to  beg  you,  Dionysia,  instead  of 
commanding?  If  your  old  grandfather  were  to  be- 
seech you  on  his  knees  to  abandon  your  fatal  project." 

"  You  would  cause  me  fearful  pain,  dear  papa :  but 
it  would  be  all  in  vain ;  for  I  must  resist  your  prayers, 
as  I  must  resist  your  orders." 

"  Inexorable !  "  cried  the  old  gentleman.  "  She  is 
immovable ! "  And  suddenly  changing  his  tone,  he 
cried, — 

"  But,  after  all,  I  am  master  here." 

"  Dear  papa,  pray !  " 

"  And  since  nothing  can  move  you,  I  will  speak  to 
Mechinet,  I  will  let  Blangin  know  my  will." 

Dionysia,  turning  as  pale  as  death,  but  with  burn- 
ing eyes,  drew  back  a  step,  and  said, — 

"  If  you  do  that,  grandpapa,  if  you  destroy  my 
last  hope  " — 

"Well?" 

"  I  swear  to  you  by  the  sacred  memory  of  my 
mother,  I  will  be  in  a  convent  to-morrow,  and  you  will 
never  see  me  again  in  your  life,  not  even  if  I  should 
die,  which  would  certainly  soon  " — 

M.  de  Chandore,  raising  his  hands  to  heaven,  and 
with  an  accent  of  genuine  despair,  exclaimed, — 

"  Ah,  my  God  !  Are  these  our  children  ?  And  is  this 
what  is  in  store  for  us  old  people?  We  have  spent  a 
lifetime  in  watching  over  them ;  we  have  submissively 
gratified  all  their  fancies ;  they  have  been  our  greatest 
anxiety,  and  our  sweetest  hope;  we  have  given  them 


226     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

our  life  day  by  day,  and  we  would  not  hesitate  to  give 
them  our  life's  blood  drop  by  drop;  they  are  every 
thing  to  us,  and  we  imagine  they  love  us — poor  fools 
that  we  are !  One  fine  day,  a  man  goes  by,  a  careless, 
thoughtless  man,  with  a  bright  eye  and  a  ready  tongue, 
and  it  is  all  over.  Our  child  is  no  longer  our  own; 
our  child  no  longer  knows  us.  Go,  old  man,  and  die 
in  your  corner." 

Overwhelmed  by  his  grief,  the  old  man  staggered, 
and  sank  into  a  chair,  as  an  old  oak,  cut  by  the  wood- 
man's axe,  trembles  and  falls. 

"  Ah,  this  is  fearful !  "  murmured  Dionysia.  "  What 
you  say,  grandpapa,  is  too  fearful.  How  can  you 
doubt  me  ?  " 

She  had  knelt  down.  She  was  weeping ;  and  her  hot 
tears  fell  upon  the  old  gentleman's  hands.  He  started 
up  as  he  felt  them  on  his  icy-cold  hand;  and,  making 
one  more  effort,  he  said, — 

"  Poor,  poor  child!  And  suppose  Jacques  is  guilty, 
and,  when  he  sees  you,  confesses  his  crime,  what 
then?" 

Dionysia  shook  her  head. 

"  That  is  impossible,"  she  said ;  "  and  still,  even  if  it 
were  so,  I  ought  to  be  punished  as  much  as  he  is ;  for 
I  know,  if  he  had  asked  me,  I  should  have  acted  in 
concert  with  him." 

"  She  is  mad ! "  exclaimed  M.  de  Chandore,  falling 
back  into  his  chair.  "  She  is  mad !  " 

But  he  was  overcome;  and  the  next  day,"at  five  in 
the  afternoon,  his  heart  torn  by  unspeakable  grief,  he 
went  down  the  steep  street  with  his  daughter  on  his 
arm.  Dionysia  had  chosen  her  simplest  and  plainest 
dress;  and  the  little  bag  she  carried  on  her  arm  con- 
tained not  sixteen  but  twenty  thousand  francs.  As  a 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE     227 

matter  of  course,  it  had  been  necessary  to  take  the 
marchioness  into  their  confidence ;  but  neither  she,  nor 
the  Misses  Lavarande,  nor  M.  Folgat,  had  raised  an 
objection.  Down  to  the  prison,  grandfather  and 
grandchild  had  not  exchanged  a  word ;  but,  when  they 
reached  it,  Dionysia  said, — 

"  I  see  Mrs.  Blangin  at  the  door :  let  us  be  careful." 

They  came  nearer.     Mrs.  Blangin  saluted  them. 

"  Come,  it  is  time,"  said  the  young  girl.  "  Till  to- 
morrow, dear  papa !  Go  home  quickly,  and  be  not 
troubled  about  me." 

Then  joining  the  keeper's  wife,  she  disappeared  in- 
side the  prison. 


X. 


THE  prison  of  Sauveterre  is  in  the  castle  at  the  up- 
per end  of  town,  in  a  poor  and  almost  deserted  suburb. 
This  castle,  once  upon  a  time  of  great  importance,  had 
been  dismantled  at  the  time  of  the  siege  of  Rochelle; 
and  all  that  remains  are  a  few  badly-repaired  ruins, 
ramparts  with  fosses  that  have  been  filled  up,  a  gate 
surmounted  by  a  small  belfry,  a  chapel  converted  into 
a  magazine,  and  finally  two  huge  towers  connected  by 
an  immense  building,  the  lower  rooms  in  which  are 
vaulted. 

Nothing  can  be  more  mournful  than  these  ruins, 
enclosed  within  an  ivy-covered  wall;  and  nothing 
would  indicate  the  use  that  is  made  of  them,  except  the 
sentinel  which  stands  day  and  night  at  the  gate.  An- 
cient elm-trees  overshadow  the  vast  courts ;  and  on  the 
old  walls,  as  well  as  in  every  crevice,  there  grow  and 


228     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

bloom  enough  flowers  to  rejoice  a  hundred  prisoners. 
But  this  romantic  prison  is  without  prisoners. 

"  It  is  a  cage  without  birds,"  says  the  jailer  often  in 
his  most  melancholy  voice. 

He  takes  advantage  of  this  to  raise  his  vegetables 
all  along  the  slopes ;  and  the  exposure  is  so  excellent, 
that  he  is  always  the  first  in  Sauveterre  who  has  young 
peas.  He  has  also  taken  advantage  of  this — with  leave 
granted  by  the  authorities — to  fit  up  very  comfortable 
lodgings  for  himself  in  one  of  the  towers.  He  has  two 
rooms  below,  and  a  chamber  up  stairs,  which  you  reach 
by  a  narrow  staircase  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall.  It 
was  to  this  chamber  that  the  keeper's  wife  took  Diony- 
sia  with  all  the  promptness  of  fear.  The  poor  girl  was 
out  of  breath.  Her  heart  was  beating  violently ;  and, 
as  soon  as  she  was  in  the  room,  she  sank  into  a  chair. 

"  Great  God !  "  cried  the  woman.  "  You  are  not 
sick,  my  dear  young  lady?  Wait,  I'll  run  for  some 
vinegar." 

"  Never  mind,"  replied  Dionysia  in  a  feeble  voice. 
"  Stay  here,  my  dear  Colette :  don't  go  away ! " 

For  Colette  was  her  name,  though  she  was  as  dark 
as  gingerbread,  nearly  forty-five  years  old,  and  boasted 
of  a  decided  mustache  on  her  upper  lip. 

"  Poor  young  lady !  "  she  said.  "  You  feel  badly  at 
being  here." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dionysia.  "  But  where  is  your  hus- 
band?" 

"  Down  stairs,  on  the  lookout,  madam.  He  will 
come  up  directly."  Very  soon  afterwards,  a  heavy 
step  was  heard  on  the  stairs;  and  Blangin  came  in, 
looking  pale  and  anxious,  like  a  man  who  feels  that  he 
is  running  a  great  risk. 

"  Neither  seen  nor  known/'  he  cried.     "  No  one  is 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     229 

aware  of  your  presence  here.  I  was  only  afraid  of 
that  dog  of  a  sentinel ;  and,  just  as  you  came  by,  I  had 
managed  to  get  him  round  the  corner,  offering  him  a 
drop  of  something  to  drink.  I  begin  to  hope  I  shall 
not  lose  my  place." 

Dionysia  accepted  these  words  as  a  summons  to 
speak  out. 

"  Ah !  "  she  said,  "  don't  mind  your  place :  don't  you 
know  I  have  promised  you  a  better  one  ?  " 

And,  with  a  gayety  which  was  very  far  from  being 
real,  she  opened  her  little  bag,  and  put  upon  the  table 
the  rolls  which  it  contained. 

"  Ah,  that  is  gold ! "  said  Blangin  with  eager  eyes. 

"  Yes.  Each  one  of  these  rolls  contains  a  thousand 
francs ;  and  here  are  sixteen." 

An  irresistible  temptation  seized  the  jailer. 

"  May  I  see  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Certainly !  "  replied  the  young  girl.  "  Look  for 
yourself  and  count." 

She  was  mistaken.  Blangin  did  not  think  of  count- 
ing, not  he.  What  he  wanted  was  only  to  gratify 
his  eye  by  the  sight  of  the  gold,  to  hear  its  sound,  to 
handle  it. 

With  feverish  eagerness  he  tore  open  the  wrappings, 
and  let  the  pieces  fall  in  cascades  upon  the  table ;  and, 
as  the  heap  increased,  his  lips  turned  white,  and  per- 
spiration broke  out  on  his  temples. 

"  And  all  that  is  for  me  ? "  he  said  with  a  stupid 
laugh. 

"  Yes,  it  is  yours,"  replied  Dionysia. 

"  I  did  not  know  how  sixteen  thousand  francs  would 
look.  How  beautiful  gold  is !  Just  look,  wife." 

But  Colette  turned  her  head  away.  She  was  quite 
as  covetous  as  her  husband,  and  perhaps  even  more 


23o     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

excited ;  but  she  was  a  woman,  and  she  knew  how  to 
dissemble. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  young  lady !  "  she  said,  "  never  would 
my  old  man  and  myself  have  asked  you  for  money,  if 
we  had  only  ourselves  to  think  of.  But  we  have  chil- 
dren." 

"  Your  duty  is  to  think  of  your  children,"  replied 
Dionysia. 

"  I  know  sixteen  thousand  francs  is  a  big  sum.  Per- 
haps you  will  be  sorry  to  give  us  so  much  money." 

"  I  am  not  sorry  at  all :  I  would  even  add  to  it  will- 
ingly." And  she  showed  them  one  of  the  other  four 
rolls  in  her  bag. 

"  Then,  to  be  sure,  what  do  I  care  for  my  place !  'r 
cried  Blangin.  And,  intoxicated  by  the  sight  and  the 
touch  of  the  gold,  he  added, — 

"  You  are  at  home  here,  madam ;  and  the  jail  and  the 
jailer  are  at  your  disposal.  What  do  you  desire  ?  Just 
speak.  I  have  nine  prisoners,  not  counting  M.  de  Bois- 
coran  and  Trumence.  Do  you  want  me  to  set  them  all 
free?" 

"  Blangin !  "  said  his  wife  reprovingly. 

"  What  ?    Am  I  not  free  to  let  the  prisoners  go  ?  " 

"  Before  you  play  the  master,  wait,  at  least,  till  you 
have  rendered  our  young  lady  the  service  which  she 
expects  from  you." 

"  Certainly." 

"  Then  go  and  conceal  this  money,"  said  the  pru- 
dent woman ;  "  or  it  might  betray  us." 

And,  drawing  from  her  cupboard  a  woollen  stocking, 
she  handed  it  to  her  husband,  who  slipped  the  sixteen 
thousand  francs  into  it,  retaining  about  a  dozen  gold- 
pieces,  which  he  kept  in  his.  pocket  so  as  always  to  have 
in  his  hands  some  tangible  evidence  of  his  new  for- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     231 

tune.  When  this  was  done,  and  the  stocking1,  full  to 
overflowing-,  had  been  put  back  in  the  cupboard  under 
a  pile  of  linen,  she  ordered  her 'husband, — 

"  Now,  you  go  down.  Somebody  might  be  coming' ; 
and,  if  you  were  not  there  to  open  when  they  knock, 
that  might  look  suspicious/' 

Like  a  well-trained  husband,  Blangin  obeyed  with- 
out saying  a  word;  and  then  his  wife  bethought  her- 
self how  to  entertain  Dionysia.  She  hoped,  she  said, 
her  dear  young  lady  would  do  her  the  honor  to  take 
something.  That  would  strengthen  her,  and,  besides, 
help  her  to  pass  the  time ;  for  it  was  only  seven  o'clock, 
and  Blangin  could  not  take  her  to  M.  de  Boiscoran's 
cell  before  ten,  without  great  danger. 

"  But  I  have  dined,"  Dionysia  objected.  "  I  do  not 
want  any  thing." 

The  woman  insisted  only  the  more.  She  remem- 
bered (God  be  thanked!)  her  dear  young  lady's  taste; 
and  she  had  made  her  an  admirable  broth,  and  some 
beautiful  dessert.  And,  while  thus  talking,  she  set  the 
table,  having  made  up  her  mind  that  Dionysia  must  eat 
at  all  hazards;  at  least,  so  says  the  tradition  of  the 
place. 

The  eager  zeal  of  the  woman  had,  at  least,  this  ad- 
vantage,— that  it  prevented  Dionysia  from  giving  way 
to  her  painful  thoughts. 

Night  had  come.  It  was  nine  o'clock ;  then  it  struck 
ten.  At  last,  the  watch  came  round  to  relieve  the  senti- 
nels. A  quarter  of  an  hour  after  that,  Blangin  reap- 
peared, holding  a  lantern  and  an  enormous  bunch  of 
keys  in  his  hands. 

"  I  have  sent  Trumence  to  bed,"  he  said.  "  You 
can  come  now,  madam." 

Dionysia  was  all  ready. 


232     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Let  us  go,"  she  said  simply. 

Then  following  the  jailer  along  interminable  pas- 
sages, through  a  vast  vaulted  hall,  in  which  their  steps 
resounded  as  in  a  church,  then  through  a  long  gallery. 
At  last,  pointing  at  a  massive  door,  through  the  cracks 
of  which  the  light  was  piercing,  he  said, — 

"  Here  we  are." 

But  Dionysia  seized  his  arm,  and  said  in  an  almost 
inaudible  voice, — 

"  Wait  a  moment." 

She  was  almost  overcome  by  so  many  successive 
emotions.  She  felt  her  legs  give  way  under  her,  and 
her  eyes  become  dim.  In  her  heart  she  preserved  all 
her  usual  energy ;  but  the  flesh  escaped  from  her  will, 
and  failed  her  at  the  last  moment. 

"Are  you  sick?"  asked  the  jailer.  "What  is  the 
matter?" 

She  prayed  to  God  for  courage  and  strength :  when 
her  prayer  was  finished,  she  said, — 

"  Now,  let  us  go  in." 

And,  making  a  great  noise  with  the  keys  and  the 
bolts,  Blangin  opened  the  door  to  Jacques  de  Bois- 
coran's  cell. 

Jacques  counted  no  longer  the  days,  but  the  hours. 
He  had  been  imprisoned  on  Friday  morning,  June  23, 
and  this  was  Wednesday  night,  June  28.  He  had  been 
a  hundred  and  thirty-two  hours,  according  to  the 
graphic  description  of  a  great  writer,  "  living,  but 
struck  from  the  roll  of  the  living,  and  buried  alive." 

Each  one  of  these  hundred  and  thirty-two  hours  had 
weighed  upon  him  like  a  month.  Seeing  him  pale  and 
haggard,  with  his  hair  and  beard  in  disorder,  and  his 
eyes  shining  brightly  with  fever,  like  half-extinguished 
coals,  one  would  hardly  have  recognized  in  him  the 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     233 

happy  lord  of  Boiscoran,  free  from  care  and  trouble, 
upon  whom  fortune  had  ever  smiled, — that  haughty 
sceptical  young  man,  who  from  the  height  of  the 
past  defied  the  future. 

The  fact  is,  that  society,  obliged  to  defend  itself 
against  criminals,  has  invented  no  more  fearful  suffer- 
ing than  what  is  called  "  close  confinement."  There 
is  nothing  that  will  sooner  demoralize  a  man,  crush  his 
will,  and  utterly  conquer  the  most  powerful  energy. 
There  is  no  struggle  more  distressing  than  the  struggle 
between  an  innocent  man  accused  of  some  crime,  and 
the  magistrate, — a  helpless  being  in  the  hands  of  a  man 
armed  with  unlimited  power. 

If  great  sorrow  was  not  sacred,  to  a  certain  degree, 
Dionysia  might  have  heard  all  about  Jacques.  Noth- 
ing would  have  been  easier.  She  would  have  been  told 
by  Blangin,  who  was  watching  M.  de  Boiscoran  like  a 
spy,  and  by  his  wife,  who  prepared  his  meals,  through 
what  anguish  he  had  passed  since  his  imprisonment. 

Stunned  at  first,  he  had  soon  recovered;  and  on 
Friday  and  Saturday  he  had  been  quiet  and  confi- 
dent, talkative,  and  almost  cheerful.  But  Sunday  had 
been  a  fatal  day.  Two  gendarmes  had  carried  him  to 
Boiscoran  to  take  off  the  seals ;  and  on  his  way  out  he 
had  been  overwhelmed  with  insults  and  curses  by  the 
people  who  had  recognized  him.  He  had  come  back 
terribly  distressed. 

During  the  whole  day  of  Monday,  he  had  been  tor- 
tured by  the  magistrate,  and  after  six  hours'  examina- 
tion, when  they  brought  him  his  dinner,  he  had  said 
that  his  health  could  not  stand  it,  and  that  they  might 
just  as  well  kill  him  at  once. 

On  Tuesday  he  had  received  Dionysia's  letter,  and 
answered  it.  This  had  excited  him  fearfully,  and, 


234     WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

during  a  part  of  the  night,  Trumence  had  seen  him 
walk  up  and  down  in  his  cell  with  all  the  gestures  and 
incoherent  imprecations  of  a  madman. 

He  had  hoped  for  a  letter  on  Wednesday.  When 
none  came,  he  had  sunk  into  a  kind  of  stupor,  during 
which  M.  Galpin  had  been  unable  to  draw  a  word  from 
him.  He  had  taken  nothing  all  day  long  but  a  little 
broth  and  a  cup  of  coffee.  When  the  magistrate  left 
him,  he  had  sat  down,  leaning  his  head  on  his  elbows, 
facing  the  window ;  and  there  he  had  remained,  never 
moving,  and  so  deeply  absorbed  in  his  reveries,  that  he 
had  taken  no  notice  when  they  brought  him  light.  He 
was  still  in  this  state,  when,  a  little  after  ten  o'clock, 
he  heard  the  grating  of  the  bolts  of  his  cell.  He  had 
become  so  well  acquainted  with  the  prison  that  he 
knew  all  its  regulations.  He  knew  at  what  hours  his 
meals  were  brought,  at  what  time  Trumence  came  to 
clean  up  his  room,  and  when  he  might  expect  the  mag- 
istrate. After  night,  he  knew  he  was  his  own  master 
till  next  morning.  So  late  a  visit,  therefore,  must 
needs  bring  him  some  unexpected  news,  his  liberty, 
perhaps, — that  visitor  for  whom  all  prisoners  look  so 
anxiously. 

He  started  up.  As  soon  as  he  distinguished  in  the 
darkness  the  jailer's  rugged  face,  he  asked  eagerly, — 

"  Who  wants  me  ?  " 

Blangin  bowed.  He  was  a  polite  jailer.  Then  he 
replied, — 

"  Sir,  I  bring  you  a  visitor." 

And,  moving  aside,  he  made  way  for  Dionysia,  or, 
rather,  he  pushed  her  into  the  room ;  for  she  seemed  to 
have  lost  all  power  to  move. 

"A  visitor?"  repeated  M.  de  Boiscoran. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     235 

But  the  jailer  had  raised  his  lantern,  and  the  poor 
man  could  recognize  his  betrothed. 

"  You,"  he  cried,  "  you  here  !  " 

And  he  drew  back,  afraid  of  being  deceived  by  a 
dream,  or  one  of  those  fearful  hallucinations  which  an- 
nounce the  coming  of  insanity,  and  take  hold  of  the 
brains  of  sick  people  in  times  of  over-excitement. 

"  Dionysia !  "  he  barely  whispered,  "  Dionysia !  " 

If  not  her  own  life  (for  she  cared  nothing  for  that), 
but  Jacques's  life,  had  at  that  moment  depended  on  a 
single  word,  Dionysia  could  not  have  uttered  it.  Her 
throat  was  parched,  and  her  lips  refused  to  move.  The 
jailer  took  it  upon  himself  to  answer, — 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  Miss  Chandore." 

"  At  this  hour,  in  my  prison !  " 

"  She  had  something  important  to  communicate  to 
you.  She  came  to  me  " — 

"  O  Dionysia !  "  stammered  Jacques,  "  what  a  pre- 
cious friend  " — 

"  And  I  agreed,"  said  Blangin  in  a  paternal  tone  of 
voice,  "  to  bring  her  in  secretly.  It  is  a  great  sin  I 
commit;  and  if  it  ever  should  become  known —  But 
one  may  be  ever  so  much  a  jailer,  one  has  a  heart, 
after  all.  I  tell  you  so  merely  because  the  young  lady 
might  not  think  of  it.  If  the  secret  is  not  kept  care- 
fully, I  should  lose  my  place,  and  I  am  a  poor  man, 
with  wife  and  children." . 

"  You  are  the  best  of  men !  "  exclaimed  M.  de  Bois- 
coran,  far  from  suspecting  the  price  that  had  been  paid 
for  Blangin's  sympathy,  "  and,  on  the  day  on  which  I 
regain  my  liberty,  I  will  prove  to  you  that  we  whom 
you  have  obliged  are  not  ungrateful." 

"  Quite  at  your  service,"  replied  the  jailer  modestly. 


236     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

Gradually,  however,  Dionysia  had  recovered  her 
self-possession.  She  said  gently  to  Blangin, — 

"  Leave  us  now,  my  good  friend." 

As  soon  as  he  had  disappeared,  and  without  allow- 
ing M.  de  Boiscoran  to  say  a  word,  she  said,  speaking 
very  low, — 

"  Jacques,  grandpapa  has  told  me,  that  by  coming 
thus  to  you  at  night,  alone,  and  in  secret,  I  run  the  risk 
of  losing  your  affection,  and  of  diminishing  your  re- 
spect." 

"  Ah,  you  did  not  think  so !  " 

"  Grandpapa  has  more  experience  than  I  have, 
Jacques.  Still  I  did  not  hesitate.  Here  I  am ;  and  I 
should  have  run  much  greater  risks;  for  your  honor 
is  at  stake,  and  your  honor  is  my  honor,  as  your  life 
is  my  life.  Your  future  is  at  stake,  our  future,  our 
happiness,  all  our  hopes  here  below." 

Inexpressible  joy  had  illumined  the  prisoner's  face. 

"  O  God !  "  he  cried,  "  one  such  moment  pays  for 
years  of  torture." 

But  Dionysia  had  sworn  to  herself,  as  she  came,  that 
nothing  should  turn  her  aside  from  her  purpose.  So 
she  went  on, — 

"  By  the  sacred  memory  of  my  mother,  I  assure  you, 
Jacques,  that  I  have  never  for  a  moment  doubted  your 
innocence." 

The  unhappy  man  looked  distressed. 

"  You,"  he  said;  "  but  the*  others?  but  M.  de  Chan- 
dore?" 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  be  here,  if  he  thought  you 
were  guilty?  My  aunts  and  your  mother  are  as  sure 
of  it  as  I  am." 

"  And  my  father  ?  You  said  nothing  about  him  in 
your  letter." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     237 

"  Your  father  remained  in  Paris  in  case  some  in- 
fluence in  high  quarters  should  have  to  be  appealed  to." 

Jacques  shook  his  head,  and  said, — 

"  I  am  in  prison  at  Sauveterre,  accused  of  a  fearful 
crime,  and  my  father  remains  in  Paris!  It  must  be 
true  that  he  never  really  loved  me.  And  yet  I  have  al- 
ways been  a  good  son  to  him  down  to  this  terrible 
catastrophe.  He  has  never  had  to  complain  of  me. 
No,  my  father  does  not  love  me." 

Dionysia  could  not  allow  him  to  go  off  in  this  way. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Jacques,"  she  said :  "  let  me  tell  you 
why  I  ran  the  risk  of  taking  this  serious  step,  that  may 
cost  me  so  dear.  I  come  to  you  in  the  name  of  all 
your  friends,  in  the  name  of  M.  Folgat,  the  great  ad- 
vocate whom  your  mother  has  brought  down  from 
Paris,  and  in  the  name  of  M.  Magloire,  in  whom  you 
put  so  much  confidence.  They  all  agree  you  have 
adopted  an  abominable  system.  By  refusing  obsti- 
nately to  speak,  you  rush  voluntarily  into  the  gravest 
danger.  Listen  well  to  what  I  tell  you.  If  you  wait 
till  the  examination  is  over,  you  are  lost.  If  you  are 
once  handed  over  to  the  court,  it  is  too  late  for  you  to 
speak.  You  will  only,  innocent  as  you  are,  make  one 
more  on  the  list  of  judicial  murders." 

Jacques  de  Boiscoran  had  listened  to  Dionysia  in 
silence,  his  head  bowed  to  the  ground,  as  if  to  conceal 
its  pallor  from  her.  As  soon  as  she  stopped,  all  out  of 
breath,  he  murmured, — 

"  Alas !  Every  thing  you  tell  me  I  have  told  myself 
more  than  once." 

"And  you  did  not  speak?" 

"  I  did  not." 

"  Ah,  Jacques,  you  are  not  aware  of  the  danger  you 
run !  You  do  not  know  " — 


238     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  interrupting  her  in  a  harsh, 
hoarse  voice, — "  I  know  that  the  scaffold,  or  the  gal- 
leys, are  at  the  end." 

Dionysia  was  petrified  with  horror. 

Poor  girl !  She  had  imagined  that  she  would  only 
have  to  show  herself  to  triumph  over  Jacques's  obsti- 
nacy, and  that,  as  soon  as  she  had  heard  what  he  had 
to  say,  she  would  feel  reassured.  And  instead  of 
that — 

"  What  a  misfortune !  "  she  cried.  "  You  have  taken 
up  these  fearful  notions,  and  you  will  not  abandon 
them!" 

"  I  must  keep  silent." 

"  You  cannot.    You  have  not  considered  " — 

"  Not  considered,"  he  repeated. 

And  in  a  lower  tone  he  added, — 

"  And  what  do  you  think  I  have  been  doing  these 
hundred  and  thirty  mortal  hours  since  I  have  been 
alone  in  this  prison, — alone  to  confront  a  terrible  ac- 
cusation, and  a  still  more  terrible  emergencv?" 

"  That  is  the  difficulty,  Jacques :  you  are  the  victim 
of  your  own  imagination.  And  who  could  help  it  in 
your  place  ?  M.  Folgat  said  so  only  yesterday.  There 
is  no  man  living,  who,  after  four  days'  close  confine- 
ment, can  keep  his  mind  cool.  Grief  and  solitude  are 
bad  counsellors.  Jacques,  come  to  yourself;  listen  to 
your  dearest  friends  who  speak  to  you  through  me. 
Jacques,  your  Dionysia  beseeches  you.  Speak !  " 

"  I  cannot." 

"Why  not?" 

She  waited  for  some  seconds;  and,  as  he  did  not 
reply,  she  said,  not  without  a  slight  accent  of  bitter- 
ness in  her  voice, — 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     239 

"  Is  it  not  the  first  duty  of  an  innocent  man  to  es- 
tablish his  innocence  ?  " 

The  prisoner,  with  a  movement  of  despair,  clasped 
his  hands  over  his  brow.  Then  bending  over  Diony- 
sia,  so  that  she  felt  his  breath  in  her  hair,  he  said, — 

"  And  when  he  cannot,  when  he  cannot,  establish  his 
innocence  ?  " 

She  drew  back,  pale  unto  death,  tottering  so  that 
she  had  to  lean  against  the  wall,  and  cast  upon  Jacques 
de  Boiscoran  glances  in  which  the  whole  horror  of 
her  soul  was  clearly  expressed. 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  "  she  stammered.     "  O  God !  " 

He  laughed,  the  wretched  man!  with  that  laugh 
which  is  the  last  utterance  of  despair.  And  then  he 
replied, — 

"  I  say  that  there  are  circumstances  which  upset  our 
reason;  unheard-of  circumstances,  which  could  make 
one  doubt  of  one's  self.  I  say  that  every  thing  accuses 
me,  that  every  thing  overwhelms  me,  that  every  thing 
turns  against  me.  I  say,  that  if  I  were  in  M.  Galpin's 
place,  and  if  he  were  in  mine,  I  should  act  just  as  he 
does." 

"  That  is  insanity !  "  cried  Dionysia. 

But  Jacques  de  Boiscoran  did  not  hear  her.  All  the 
bitterness  of  the  last  days  rose  within  him:  he  turned 
red,  and  became  excited.  At  last,  with  gasping  voice, 
he  broke  forth, — 

"  Establish  my  innocence  !  Ah !  that  is  easily  said. 
But  how  ?  No,  I  am  not  guilty :  but  a  crime  has  been 
committed;  and  for  this  crime  justice  will  have  a  cul- 
prit. If  it  is  not  I  who  fired  at  Count  Claudieuse,  and 
set  Valpinson  on  fire,  who  is  it  ?  '  Where  were  you/ 
they  ask  me, '  at  the  time  of  the  murder  ?  '  Where  was 


240    WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE 

I?  Can  I  tell  it?  To  clear  myself  is  to  accuse  others. 
And  if  I  should  be  mistaken  ?  or  if,  not  being  mistaken, 
I  should  be  unable  to  prove  the  truthfulness  of  my  ac- 
cusation ?  The  murderer  and  the  incendiary,  of  course, 
took  all  possible  precautions  to  escape  detection,  and  to 
let  the  punishment  fall  upon  me.  I  was  warned  be- 
forehand. Ah,  if  we  always  could  foresee,  could  know 
beforehand!  How  can  I  defend  myself?  On  the  first 
day  I  said,  '  Such  a  charge  cannot  reach  me :  it  is  a 
cloud  that  a  breath  will  scatter.'  Madman  that  I  was ! 
The  cloud  has  become  an  avalanche,  and  I  may  be 
crushed.  I  am  neither  a  child  nor  a  coward;  and  I 
have  always  met  phantoms  face  to  face.  I  have  mea- 
sured the  danger,  and  I  know  it  is  fearful." 

Dionysia  shuddered.    She  cried, — 

"  What  will  become  of  us?  " 

This  time  M.  de  Boiscoran  heard  her,  and  was 
ashamed  of  his  weakness.  But,  before  he  could  mas- 
ter his  feelings,  the  young  girl  went  on.  saying, — 

"  But  never  mind.  These  are  idle  thoughts.  Truth 
soars  invincible,  unchangeable,  high  above  all  the  ablest 
calculations  and  the  most  skilful  combinations. 
Jacques,  you  must  tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  with- 
out subterfuge  or  concealment." 

"  I  can  do  so  no  longer,"  murmured  he. 

"  Is  it  such  a  terrible  secret  ?  " 

"  It  is  improbable." 

Dionysia  looked  at  him  almost  with  fear.  She  did 
not  recognize  his  old  face,  nor  his  eye,  nor  the  tone  of 
his  voice.  She  drew  nearer  to  him,  and  taking  his  hand 
between  her  own  small  white  hands,  she  said, — 

"  But  you  can  tell  it  to  me,  your  friend,  your  " — 

He  trembled,  and,  drawing  back,  he  said, — 

"  To  you  less  than  anybody  else." 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE     241 

And,  feeling  how  mortifying  such  an  answer  must 
be,  he  added, — 

"Your  mind  is  too  pure  for  such  wretched  intrigues. 
I  do  not  want  your  wedding-dress  to  be  stained  by  a 
speck  of  that  mud  into  which  they  have  thrown  me." 

Was  she  deceived?  No;  but  she  had  the  courage 
to  seem  to  be  deceived.  She  went  on  quietly, — 

"Very  well,  then.  But  the  truth  will  have  to  be 
told  sooner  or  later." 

"  Yes,  to  M.  Magloire." 

"  Well,  then,  Jacques,  write  down  at  once  what  you 
mean  to  tell  him.  Here  are  pen  and  ink :  I  will  carry 
it  to  him  faithfully." 

"  There  are  things,  Dionysia,  which  cannot  be  writ- 
ten." 

She  felt  she  was  beaten ;  she  understood  that  noth- 
ing would  ever  bend  that  iron  will,  and  yet  she  said 
once  more, — 

"But  if  I  were  to  beseech  you,  Jacques,  by  our 
past  and  our  future,  by  that  great  and  eternal  love 
which  you  have  sworn?" 

"Do  you  really  wish  to  make  my  prison  hours  a 
thousand  times  harder  than  they  are?  Do  you  want 
to  deprive  me  of  my  last  remnant  of  strength  and 
of  courage?  Have  you  really  no  confidence  in  me 
any  longer?  Could  you  not  believe  me  a  few  days 
more  ?  " 

He  paused.  Somebody  knocked  at  the  door;  and 
almost  at  the  same  time  Blangin  the  jailer  called  out 
through  the  wicket, — 

"  Time  is  passing.  I  want  to  be  down  stairs  when 
they  relieve  guard.  I  am  running  a  great  risk.  I 
am  a  father  of  a  family." 

"  Go  home  now,  Dionysia,"  said  Jacques  eagerly. 


242     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  go  home.     I  cannot  think  of  your  being  seen  here." 

Dionysia  had  paid  dear  enough  to  know  that  she 
was  quite  safe;  still  she  did  not  object.  She  offered 
her  brow  to  Jacques,  who  touched  it  with  his  lips; 
and  half  dead,  holding  on  to  the  walls,  she  went  back 
to  the  jailer's  little  room.  They  had  made  up  a  bed 
for  her,  and  she  threw  herself  on  it,  dressed  as  she 
was,  and  remained  there,  immovable,  as  if  she  had 
been  dead,  overcome  by  a  kind  of  stupor  which  de- 
prived her  even  of  the  faculty  of  suffering. 

It  was  bright  daylight,  it  was  eight  o'clock,  when 
she  felt  somebody  pulling  her  sleeve.  The  jailer's 
wife  said  to  her, — 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  this  would  be  a  good  time 
for  you  to  slip  away.  Perhaps  they  will  wonder  to 
see  you  alone  in  the  street ;  but  they  will  think  you  are 
coming  home  from  seven  o'clock  mass." 

Without  saying  a  word,  Dionysia  jumped  down, 
and  in  a  moment  she  had  arranged  her  hair  and  her 
dress.  Then  Blangin  came,  rather  troubled  at  not 
seeing  her  leave  the  house ;  and  she  said  to  him,  giving 
him  one  of  the  thousand-franc  rolls  that  were  still  in 
her  bag, — 

"  This  is  for  you :  I  want  you  to  remember  me,  if 
I  should  need  you  again." 

And,  dropping  her  veil  over  her  face,  she  went 
away. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     243 


XI. 

BARON  CHANDORE  had  had  one  terrible  night  in  his 
life,  every  minute  of  which  he  had  counted  by  the 
ebbing  pulse  of  his  only  son. 

The  evening  before,  the  physicians  had  said, — 

"  If  he  lives  this  night,  he  may  be  saved." 

At  daybreak  he  had  expired. 

"  Well,  the  old  gentlean  had  hardly  suffered  more 
during  that  fatal  night  than  he  did  this  night,  during 
which  Dionysia  was  away  from1  the  house.  He  knew 
very  well  that  Blangin  and  his  wife  were  honest  peo- 
ple, in  spite  of  their  avarice  and  their  covetousness ; 
he  knew  that  Jacques  de  Boiscoran  was  an  honorable 
man. 

But  still,  during  the  whole  night,  his  old  servant 
heard  him  walk  up  and  down  his  room;  and  at  seven 
o'clock  in  the  morning  he  was  at  the  door,  looking 
anxiously  up  and  down  the  street.  Towards  half-past 
seven,  M.  Folgat  came  up;  but  he  hardly  wished  him 
good-morning,  and  he  certainly  did  not  hear  a  word 
of  what  the  lawyer  told  him  to  reassure  him.  At  last, 
however,  the  old  man  cried, — 

"Ah,  there  she  is!" 

He  was  not  mistaken.  Dionysia  was  coming  round 
the  corner.  She  came  up  to  the  house  in  "feverish 
haste,  as  if  she  had  known  that  her  strength  was  at 
an  end,  and  would  barely  suffice  to  carry  her  to  the 
door. 

Grandpapa  Chandore  met  her  with  a  kind  of  fierce 
joy,  pressed  her  in  his  arms,  and  said  over  and  over 
again, — 

"  O  Dionysia !  oh,  my  darling  child,  how  I  have  suf- 


244     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

fered !  How  long  you  have  been !  But  it  is  all  over 
now.  Come,  come,  come !  " 

And  he  almost  carried  her  into  the  parlor,  and  put 
her  down  tenderly  into  a  large  easy-chair.  He  knelt 
down  by  her,  smiling  with  happiness ;  but,  when  he 
had  taken  her  hands  in  his,  he  said, — 

"  Your  hands  are  burning.     You  have  a  fever !  " 

He  looked  at  her :  she  had  raised  her  veil. 

"  You  are  as  pale  as  death !  "  he  went  on.  "  Your 
eyes  are  red  and  swollen !  " 

"  I  have  cried,  dear  papa,"  she  replied  gently. 

"Cried!     Why?" 

"  Alas,  I  have  failed !  " 

As  if  moved  by  a  sudden  shock,  M.  de  Chandore 
started  up,  and  cried, — 

"  By  God's  holy  name  the  like  has  not  been  heard 
since  the  world  was  made!  What!  you  went,  you, 
Dionysia  de  Chandore,  to  him  in  his  prison ;  you 
begged  him  " — 

"  And  he  remained  inflexible.  Yes,  dear  papa.  He 
will  say  nothing  till  after  the  preliminary  investigation 
is  over." 

"  We  were  mistaken  in  the  man :  he  has  no  courage 
and  no  feeling." 

Dionysia  had  risen  painfully,  and  said  feebly, — 

"  Ah,  dear  papa !  do  not  blame  him,  do  not  accuse 
him !  he  is  so  unhappy !  " 

"But  what  reasons  does  he  give?" 

"  He  says  the  facts  are  so  very  improbable  that  he 
should  certainly  not  be  believed ;  and  that  he  should 
ruin  himself  if  he  were  to  speak  as  long  as  he  is  kept 
in  close  confinement,  and  has  no  advocate.  He  says 
his  position  is  the  result  of  a  wicked  conspiracy.  He 
says  he  thinks  he  knows  the  guilty  one,  and  that  he 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     245 

will  denounce  the  person,  since  he  is  forced  to  do  so 
in  self-defence." 

M.  Folgat,  who  had  until  now  remained  a  silent  wit- 
ness of  the  scene,  came  up,  and  asked, — 

"  Are  you  quite  sure,  madam,  that  that  was  what 
M.  de  Boiscoran  said  ?  " 

"  Oh,  quite  sure,  sir !  And,  if  I  lived  a  thousand 
years,  I  should  never  forget  the  look  of  his  eyes,  or  the 
tone  of  his  voice." 

M.  de  Chandore  did  not  allow  her  to  be  interrupted 
again. 

"  But  surely,  my  dear  child,  Jacques  told  you — you 
— something  more  precise  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  You  did  not  ask  him  even  what  those  improbable 
facts  were  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes!" 

"Well?" 

"  He  said  that  I  was  the  very  last  person  who  could 
be  told." 

"  That  man  ought  to  be  burnt  over  a  slow  fire,"  said 
M.  de  Chandore  to  himself.  Then  he  added  in  a 
louder  voice, — 

"  And  you  do  not  think  all  this  very  strange,  very 
extraordinary  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  horrible !  " 

"  I  understand.  But  what  do  you  think  of 
Jacques  ?  " 

"  I  think,  dear  papa,  that  he  cannot  act  otherwise, 
or  he  would  not  do  it.  Jacques  is  too  intelligent  and 
too  courageous  to  deceive  himself  easily.  As  he  alone 
knows  every  thing,  he  alone  can  judge.  I,  of  course, 
am  bound  to  respect  his  will  more  than  anybody  else." 

But  the  old  gentleman  did  not  think  himself  bound 


246     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

to  respect  it ;  and,  exasperated  as  he  was  by  this  resig- 
nation of  his  grandchild,  he  was  on  the  point  of  telling 
her  his  mind  fully,  when  she  got  up  with  some  effort, 
and  said,  in  an  almost  inaudible  voice, — 

"  I  am  broken  to  pieces !  Excuse  me,  grandpa,  if 
I  go  to  my  room."  She  left  the  parlor.  M.  de  Chan- 
dore  accompanied  her  to  the  door,  remained  there  till 
he  had  seen  her  get  up  stairs,  where  her  maid  was  wait- 
ing for  her,  and  then  came  back  to  M.  Folgat. 

"  They  are  going  to  kill  me,  sir !  "  he  cried,  with 
an  explosion  of  wrath  and  despair  which  was  almost 
frightful  in  a  man  of  his  age.  "  She  had  in  her  eyes 
the  same  look  that  her  mother  had  when  she  told  me, 
after  her  husband's  death,  '  I  shall  not  survive  him.' 
And  she  did  not  survive  my  poor  son.  And  then  I, 
old  man,  was  left  alone  with  that  child ;  and  who 
knows  but  she  may  have  in  her  the  germ  of  the  same 
disease  which  killed  her  mother?  Alone!  And  for 
these  twenty  years  I  have  held  my  breath  to  listen  if 
she  is  still  breathing  as  naturally  and  regularly  " — 

"  You  are  needlessly  alarmed,"  began  the  advocate. 

But  Grandpapa  Chandore  shook  his  head,  and 
said, — 

"  No,  no.  I  fear  my  child  has  been  hurt  in  her 
heart's  heart.  Did  you  not  see  how  white  she  looked, 
and  how  faint  her  voice  was?  Great  God!  wilt  thou 
leave  me  all  alone  here  upon  earth  ?  O  God !  for 
which  of  my  sins  dost  thou  punish  me  in  my  children? 
For  mercy's  sake,  call  me  home  before  she  also  leaves 
me,  who  is  the  joy  of  my  life.  And  I  can  do  nothing 
to  turn  aside  this  fatality — stupid,  inane  old  man  that 
I  am!  And  this  Jacques  de  Boiscoran — if  he  were 
guilty,  after  all  ?  Ah  the  wretch !  I  would  hang  him 
with  my  own  hands !  " 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     247 

Deeply  moved,  M.  Folgat  had  watched  the  old  gen- 
tleman's grief.  Now  he  said, — 

"  Do  not  blame  M.  de  Boiscoran,  sir,  now  that  every 
thing  is  against  him!  Of  all  of  us,  he  suffers,  after 
all,  most ;  for  he  is  innocent." 

"Do  you  still  think  so?" 

"  More  than  ever.  Little  as  he  has  said,  he  has 
told  Miss  Dionysia  enough  to  confirm  me  in  my  con- 
jecture, and  to  prove  to  me  that  I  have  guessed  right." 

"  When  ?  " 

"  The  day  we  went  to  Boiscoran." 

The  baron  tried  to  remember. 

"  I  do  not  recollect,"  he  said. 

"  Don't  you  remember,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  that  you 
left  us,  so  as  to  permit  Anthony  to  answer  my  ques- 
tions more  freely  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure !  "  cried  M.  de  Chandore,  "  to  be  sure ! 
And  then  you  thought " — 

"  I  thought  I  had  guessed  right,  yes,  sir ;  but  I  am 
not  going  to  do  any  thing  now.  M.  de  Boiscoran  tells 
us  that  the  facts  are  improbable.  I  should,  therefore, 
in  all  probability,  soon  be  astray;  but,  since  we  are 
now  bound  to  be  passive  till  the  investigation  is  com- 
pleted, I  shall  employ  the  time  in  examining  the  coun- 
try-people, who  will,  probably,  tell  me  more  than  An- 
thony did.  You  have,  no  doubt,  among  your  friends, 
some  who  must  be  well  informed, — M.  Seneschal,  Dr. 
Seignebos." 

The  latter  did  not  keep  M.  Folgat  waiting  long; 
for  his  name  had  hardly  been  mentioned,  when  he  him- 
self repeated  it  in  the  passage,  telling  a  servant, — 

"  Say  it  is  I,  Dr.  Seignebos,  Dr.  Seignebos." 

He  fell  like  a  bombshell  into  the  room.  It  was  four 
days  now  since  he  had  last  presented  himself  there; 


248     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

for  he  had  not  come  himself  for  his  report  and  the 
shot  he  had  left  in  M.  Folgat's  hands.  He  had  sent 
for  them,  excusing  himself  on  the  score  of  his  many 
engagements.  The  fact  was,  however,  that  he  had 
spent  nearly  the  whole  of  these  four  days  at  the  hos- 
pital, in  company  with  one  of  his  brother-practitioners, 
who  had  been  sent  for  by  the  court  to  proceed, 
"  jointly  with  Dr.  Seignebos,"  to  an  examination  of 
Cocoleu's  mental  condition. 

"  And  this  is  what  brings  me  here,"  he  cried,  still 
in  the  door ;  "  for  this  opinion,  if  it  is  not  put  into 
proper  order,  will  deprive  M.  de  Boiscoran  of  his  best 
and  surest  chance  of  escape." 

After  what  Dionysia  had  told  them,  neither  M.  de 
Chandore  nor  M.  Folgat  attached  much  importance 
to  the  state  of  Cocoleu's  mind :  still  this  word  "  es- 
cape "  attracted  their  attention.  There  is  nothing  un- 
important in  a  criminal  trial. 

"  Is  there  any  thing  new  ?  "  asked  the  advocate. 

The  doctor  first  went  to  close  the  doors  carefully, 
and  then,  putting  his  cane  and  broad-brimmed  hat 
upon  the  table,  he  said, — 

"  No,  there  is  nothing  new.  They  still  insist,  as 
before,  upon  ruining  M.  de  Boiscoran;  and,  in  order 
to  do  that,  they  shrink  from  nothing." 

"  They !  who  are  they  ?  "  asked  M.  de  Chandore. 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders  contemptuously. 

"  Are  you  really  still  in  doubt,  sir  ? "  he  replied. 
"  And  yet  the  facts  speak  clearly  enough.  In  this  de- 
partment, as  well  as  in  several  others,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  there  is  a  certain  number  of  physicians  who  are 
not  very  keenly  alive  to  the  honor  of  their  profession, 
and  who  are,  to  tell  the  truth,  consummate  apes." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     249 

Grave  as  the  situation  was,  M.  Folgat  could  hardly 
suppress  a  smile,  the  doctor's  manner  was  so  very  ex- 
traordinary. 

"  But  there  is  one  of  these  apes,"  he  went  on,  "  who, 
in  length  of  ears  and  thickness  of  skin,  surpasses  all 
the  others.  Well,  he  is  the  very  one  whom  the  court 
has  chosen  and  associated  with  me." 

Upon  this  subject  it  was  desirable  to  put  a  check 
upon  the  doctor.  M.  de  Chandore  therefore  inter- 
rupted him,  saying, — 

"  In  fine  "— 

"  In  fine,  my  learned  brother  is  fully  persuaded  that 
his  mission  as  a  physician  employed  by  a  court  of  jus- 
tice is  to  say  '  Amen '  to  all  the  stories  of  the  prosecu- 
tion. *  Cocoleu  is  an  idiot,'  says  M.  Galpin  peremp- 
torily. '  He  is  an  idiot,  or  ought  to  be  one/  reechoes 
my  learned  brother.  '  He  spoke  on  the  occasion  of 
the  crime  by  an  inspiration  from  on  high,'  the  magis- 
trate goes  on  to  say.  '  Evidently,'  adds  the  brother, 
'there  was  an  inspiration  from  on  high.'  For  this  is 
the  conclusion  at  which  my  learned  brother  arrives  in 
his  report :  '  Cocoleu  is  an  idiot  who  has  been  providen- 
tially inspired  by  a  flash  of  reason/  He  does  not  say 
it  in  these  words ;  but  it  amounts  to  the  same  thing." 

He  had  taken  off  his  spectacles,  and  was  wiping 
them  industriously. 

"  But  what  do  you  think,  doctor  ?  "  asked  M.  Folgat. 

Dr.  Seignebos  solemnly  put  on  again  his  spectacles, 
and  replied  coldly, — 

"  My  opinion,  which  I  have  fully  developed  in  my 
report,  is,  that  Cocoleu  is  not  idiotic  at  all." 

M.  Chandore  started :  the  proposition  seemed  to  him 
monstrous.  He  knew  Cocoleu  very  well ;  he  had  seen 


250     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

him  wander  through  the  streets  of  Sauveterre  during 
the  eighteen  months  which  the  poor  creature  had  spent 
under  the  doctor's  treatment. 

"What!  Cocoleu  not  idiotic?"  he  repeated. 

"  No !  "  Dr.  Seignebos  declared  peremptorily ;  "  and 
you  have  only  to  look  at  him  to  be  convinced.  Has  he 
a  large  flat  face,  disproportionate  mouth,  a  yellow, 
tanned  complexion,  thick  lips,  defective  teeth,  and 
squinting  eyes?  Does  his  deformed  head  sway  from 
side  to  side,  being  too  heavy  to  be  supported  by  his 
neck?  Is  his  body  deformed,  and  his  spine  crooked? 
Do  you  find  that  his  stomach  is  big  and  pendent,  that 
his  hands  drop  upon  his  thighs,  that  his  legs  are  awk- 
ward, and  the  joints  unusually  large?  These  are  the 
symptoms  of  idiocy,  gentlemen,  and  you  do  not  find 
them  in  Cocoleu.  I,  for  my  part,  see  in  him  a  scamp, 
who  has  an  iron  constitution,  who  uses  his  hands  very 
cleverly,  climbs  trees  like  a  monkey,  and  leaps  ditches 
ten  feet  wide.  To  be  sure,  I  do  not  pretend  that  his 
intellect  is  normal ;  but  I  maintain  that  he  is  one  of 
those  imbeciles  who  have  certain  faculties  very  fully 
developed,  while  others,  more  essential,  are  missing." 

While  M.  Folgat  listened  with  the  most  intense  in- 
terest, M.  de  Chandore  became  impatient,  and  said, — 

"  The  difference  between  an  idiot  and  an  imbe- 
cile "— 

"  There  is  a  world  between  them,"  cried  the  doctor. 

And  at  once  he  went  on  with  overwhelming  volu- 
bility,— 

"  The  imbecile  preserves  some  fragments  of  intelli- 
gence. He  can  speak,  make  known  his  wants,  and  ex- 
press his  feelings.  He  associates  ideas,  compares  im- 
pressions, remembers  things,  and  acquires  experience. 
He  is  capable  of  cunning  and  dissimulation.  He  hates 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     251 

and  likes  and  fears.  If  he  is  not  always  sociable,  he 
is  susceptible  of  being  influenced  by  others.  You  can 
easily  obtain  perfect  control  over  him.  His  incon- 
sistency is  remarkable;  and  still  he  shows,  at  times, 
invincible  obstinacy.  Finally,  imbeciles  are,  on  ac- 
count of  this  semi-lucidity,  often  very  dangerous. 
You  find  among  them  almost  all  those  monomaniacs 
whom  society  is  compelled  to  shut  up  in  asylums,  be- 
cause they  cannot  master  their  instincts." 

"  Very  well  said,"  repeated  M.  Folgat,  who  found 
here  some  elements  of  a  plea, — "  very  well  said." 

The  doctor  bowed. 

"  Such  a  creature  is  Cocoleu.  Does  it  follow  that 
I  hold  him  responsible  for  his  actions  ?  By  no  means ! 
But  it  follows  that  I  look  upon  him  as  a  false  witness 
brought  forth  to  ruin  an  honest  man." 

It  was  evident  that  such  views  did  not  please  M.  de 
Chandore. 

"  Formerly,"  he  said,  "  you  did  not  think  so." 

"  No,  I  even  said  the  contrary,"  replied  Dr.  Seigne- 
bos,  not  without  dignity.  "  I  had  not  studied  Coco- 
leu  sufficiently,  and  I  was  taken  in  by  him :  I  confess 
it  openly.  But  this  avowal  of  mine  is  an  evidence  of 
the  cunning  and  the  astute  obstinacy  of  these  wretched 
creatures,  and  of  their  capacity  to  carry  out  a  design. 
After  a  year's  experience,  I  sent  Cocoleu  away,  de- 
claring, and  certainly  believing,  that  he  was  incurable. 
The  fact  is,  he  did  not  want  to  be  cured.  The  coun- 
try-people, who  observe  carefully  and  shrewdly,  were 
not  taken  in :  they  will  tell  you,  almost  to  a  man,  that 
Cocoleu  is  bad,  but  not  an  idiot.  That  is  the  truth. 
He  has  found  out,  that,  by  exaggerating  his  imbe- 
cility, he  could  live  without  work;  and  he  has  done 
it.  When  he  was  taken  in  by  Count  Claudieuse,  he 


252     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

was  clever  enough  to  show  just  so  much  intelligence 
as  was  necessary  to  make  him  endurable,  without  being 
compelled  to  do  any  work." 

"  In  a  word,"  said  M.  de  Chandore  incredulously, 
"  Cocoleu  is  a  great  actor." 

"  Great  enough  to  have  deceived  me,"  replied  the 
doctor :  "  yes,  sir." 

Then  turning  to  M.  Folgat,  he  went  on, — 

"All  this  I  had  told  my  learned  brother,  before 
taking  him  to  the  hospital.  There  we  found  Cocoleu 
more  obstinate  than  ever  in  his  silence,  which  even  M. 
Galpin  had  not  induced  him  to  break.  All  our  efforts 
to  obtain  a  word  from  him  were  fruitless,  although 
it  was  very  evident  to  me  that  he  understood  very 
well.  I  proposed  to  resort  to  quite  legitimate  means, 
which  are  employed  to  discover  feigned  defects  and 
diseases;  but  my  learned  brother  refused,  and  was 
encouraged  in  his  resistance  by  M.  Galpin:  I  do  not 
know  upon  what  ground.  Then  I  asked  that  the 
Countess  Claudieuse  should  be  sent  for,  as  she  has  a 
talent  of  making  him  talk.  M.  Galpin  would  not  per- 
mit it — and  there  we  are." 

It  happens  almost  daily,  that  two  physicians  em- 
ployed as  experts  differ  in  their  opinions.  The  courts 
would  have  a  great  deal  to  do,  if  they  had  to  force 
them  to  agree.  They  appoint  simply  a  third  expert, 
whose  opinion  is  decisive.  This  was  necessarily  to 
be  done  in  Cocoleu's  case. 

"  And  as  necessarily,"  continued  Dr.  Seignebos, 
"  the  court,  having  appointed  a  first  ass,  will  associate 
with  me  a  second  ass.  They  will  agree  with  each 
other,  and  I  shall  be  accused  and  convicted  of  igno- 
rance and  presumption." 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE     253 

He  came,  therefore,  as  he  now  said,  to  ask  M.  de 
Chandore  to  render  him  a  little  service.  He  wanted 
the  two  families,  Chandore  and  Boiscoran,  to  employ 
all  their  influence  to  obtain  that  a  commission  of  phy- 
sicians from  outside — if  possible,  from  Paris — should 
be  appointed  to  examine  Cocoleu,  and  to  report  on  his 
mental  condition. 

"  I  undertake,"  he  said,  "  to  prove  to  really  en- 
lightened men,  that  this  poor  creature  is  partly  pre- 
tending- to  be  imbecile,  and  that  his  obstinate  speech- 
lessness  is  only  adopted  in  order  to  avoid  answers 
which  would  compromise  him." 

At  first,  however,  neither  M.  de  Chandore  nor  M. 
Folgat  gave  any  answer.  They  were  considering  the 
question. 

"  Mind,"  said  the  doctor  again,  shocked  at  their 
silence,  "  mind,  I  pray,  that  if  my  view  is  adopted, 
as  I  have  every  reason  to  hope,  a  new  turn  will  be 
given  to  the  whole  case." 

Why,  yes !  The  ground  of  the  accusation  might  be 
taken  from  under  the  prosecution ;  and  that  was  what 
kept  M.  Folgat  thinking. 

"  And  that  is  exactly,"  he  commenced  at  last,  "  what 
makes  me  ask  myself  whether  the  discovery  of  Coco- 
leu's  rascality  would  not  be  rather  injurious  than  bene- 
ficial to  M.  de  Boiscoran." 

The  doctor  was  furious.     He  cried, — 

"  I  should  like  to  know  "— 

"  Nothing  can  be  more  simple,"  replied  the  advo- 
cate. "  Cocoleu's  idiocy  is,  perhaps,  the  most  serious 
difficulty  in  the 'way  of  the  prosecution,  and  the  most 
powerful  argument  for  the  defence.  What  can  M. 
Galpin  say,  if  M.  de  Boiscoran  charges  him  with  bas- 


254     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

ing  a  capital  charge  upon  the  incoherent  words  of  a 
creature  void  of  intelligence,  and,  consequently,  irre- 
sponsible." 

"  Ah !  permit  me,"  said  Dr.  Seignebos. 

But  M.  de  Chandore  heard  every  syllable. 

"  Permit  yourself,  doctor,"  he  said.  "  This  argu- 
ment of  Cocoleu's  imbecility  is  one  which  you  have 
pleaded  from  the  beginning,  and  which  appeared  to 
you,  you  said,  so  conclusive,  that  there  was  no  need  of 
looking  for  any  other." 

Before  the  doctor  could  find  an  answer,  M.  Folgat 
went  on, — 

"  Let  it  be,  on  the  contrary,  established  that  Cocoleu 
really  knows  what  he  says,  and  all  is  changed.  The 
prosecution  is  justified,  by  an  opinion  of  the  faculty, 
in  saying  to  M.  de  Boiscoran,  '  You  need  not  deny 
any  longer.  You  have  been  seen ;  here  is  a  witness.'  " 

These  arguments  must  have  struck  Dr.  Seignebos 
very  forcibly;  for  he  remained  silent  for  at  least  ten 
long  seconds,  wiping  his  gold  spectacles  with  a  pen- 
sive air.  Had  he  really  done  harm  to  Jacques  de 
Boiscoran,  while  he  meant  to  help  him?  But  he  was 
not  the  man  to  be  long  in  doubt.  He  replied  in  a 
dry  tone, — 

"  I  will  not  discuss  that,  gentlemen.  I  will  ask  you 
only  one  question :  '  Yes  or  no,  do  you  believe  in  M. 
de  Boiscoran's  innocence  ?  ' ' 

"  We  believe  in  it  fully,"  replied  the  two  men. 

"  Then,  gentlemen,  it  seems  to  me  we  are  running 
no  risk  in  trying  to  unmask  an  impostor." 

That  was  not  the  young  lawyer's  opinion. 

"  To  prove  that  Cocoleu  knows  what  he  says,"  he 
replied,  "  would  be  fatal,  unless  we  can  prove  at  the 
same  time  that  he  has  told  a  falsehood,  and  that  his 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     255 

evidence  has  been  prompted  by  others.  Can  we  prove 
that  ?  Have  we  any  means  to  prove  that  his  obstinacy 
in  not  replying  to  any  questions  arises  from  his  fear 
that  his  answers  might  convict  him  of  perjury?  " 

The  doctor  would  hear  nothing  more.  He  said 
rather  uncourteously, — 

"Lawyers'  quibbles!  I  know  only  one  thing;  and 
that  is  truth." 

"  It  will  not  always  do  to  tell  it,"  murmured  the 
lawyer. 

"  Yes,  sir,  always,"  replied  the  physician, — "  always, 
and  at  all  hazards,  and  whatever  may  happen.  I  am 
M.  de  Boiscoran's  friend;  but  I  am  still  more  the 
friend  of  truth.  If  Cocoleu  is  a  wretched  impostor, 
as  I  am  firmly  convinced,  our  duty  is  to  unmask  him." 

Dr.  Seignebos  did  not  say — and  he  probably  did  not 
confess  it  to  himself — that  it  was  a  personal  matter 
between  Cocoleu  and  himself.  He  thought  Cocoleu 
had  taken  him  in,  and  been  the  cause  of  a  host  of 
small  witticisms,  under  which  he  had  suffered  cruelly, 
though  he  had  allowed  no  one  to  see  it.  To  unmask 
Cocoleu  would  have  given  him  his  revenge,  and  return 
upon  his  enemies  the  ridicule  with  which  they  had 
overwhelmed  him. 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind,"  he  said,  "  and,  what- 
ever you  may  resolve,  I  mean  to  go  to  work  at  once, 
and  try  to  obtain  the  appointment  of  a  commission." 

"  It  might  be  prudent,"  M.  Folgat  said,  "  to  con- 
sider before  doing  any  thing,  to  consult  with  M. 
Magloire." 

"  I  do  not  want  to  consult  with  Magloire  when 
duty  calls." 

"  You  will  grant  us  twenty-four  hours,  I  hope." 

Dr.  Seignebos  frowned  till  he  looked  formidable. 


256     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Not  an  hour,"  he  replied ;  "  and  I  go  from  here  to 
M.  Daubigeon,  the  commonwealth  attorney." 

Thereupon,  taking  his  hat  and  cane,  he  bowed  and 
left,  as  dissatisfied  as  possible,  without  stopping  even 
to  answer  M.  de  Chandore,  who  asked  him  how  Count 
Claudieuse  was,  who  was,  according  to  reports  in 
town,  getting  worse  and  worse. 

"  Hang  the  old  original !  "  cried  M.  de  Chandore 
before  the  doctor  had  left  the  passage. 

Then  turning  to  M.  Folgat,  he  added, — 

"  I  must,  however,  confess  that  you  received  the 
great  news  which  he  brought  rather  coldly." 

"  The  very  fact  of  the  news  being  so  very  grave," 
replied  the  advocate,  "  made  me  wish  for  time  to  con- 
sider. If  Cocoleu  pretends  to  be  imbecile,  or,  at  least, 
exaggerates  his  incapacity,  then  we  have  a  confirma- 
tion of  what  M.  de  Boiscoran  last  night  told  Miss 
Dionysia.  It  would  be  the  proof  of  an  odious  trap, 
of  a  long-premeditated  vengeance.  Here  is  the  turn- 
ing-point of  the  affair  evidently." 

M.  de  Chandore  was  bitterly  undeceived. 

"  What ! "  he  said,  "  you  think  so,  and  you  refuse 
to  support  Dr.  Seignebos,  who  is  certainly  an  honest 
man  ?  " 

The  young  lawyer  shook  his  head. 

"  I  wanted  to  have  twenty-four  hours'  delay,  be- 
cause we  must  absolutely  consult  M.  de  Boiscoran. 
Could  I  tell  the  doctor  so  ?  Had  I  a  right  to  take  him 
into  Miss  Dionysia's  secret  ?  " 

"  You  are  right,"  murmured  M.  de  Chandore,  "  you 
are  right." 

But,  in  order  to  write  to  M.  de  Boiscoran,  Diony- 
sia's assistance  was  necessary;  and  she  did  not  reap- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     257 

pear  till  the  afternoon,  looking  still  very  pale,  but 
evidently  armed  with  new  courage. 

M.  Folgat  dictated  to  her  certain  questions  to  ask 
the  prisoner. 

She  hastened  to  write  them  in  cipher;  and  about 
four  o'clock  the  letter  was  sent  to  Mechinet,  the  clerk. 

The  next  evening  the  answer  came. 

"  Dr.  Seignebos  is  no  doubt  right,  my  dear  friends," 
wrote  Jacques.  "  I  have  but  too  good  reasons  to  be 
sure  that  Cocoleu's  imbecility  is  partly  assumed,  and 
that  his  evidence  has  been  prompted  by  others.  Still 
I  must  beg  you  will  take  no  steps  that  would  lead  to 
another  medical  investigation.  The  slightest  impru- 
dence may  ruin  me.  For  Heaven's  sake  wait  till  the 
end  of  the  preliminary  investigation,  which  is  now  near 
at  hand,  from  what  Galpin  tells  me." 

The  letter  was  read  in  the  family  circle;  and  the 
poor  mother  uttered  a  cry  of  despair  as  she  heard 
these  words  of  resignation. 

"  Are  we  going  to  obey  him,"  she  said,  "  when  we 
all  know  that  he  is  ruining  himself  by  his  obstinacy  ?  " 

Dionysia  rose,  and  said, — 

"  Jacques  alone  can  judge  his  situation,  and  he 
alone,  therefore,  has  the  right  to  command.  Our 'duty 
is  to  obey.  I  appeal  to  M.  Folgat." 

The  young  advocate  nodded  his  head. 

"  Every  thing  has  been  done  that  could  be  done," 
he  said.  "  Now  we  can  only  wait." 


258 


XII. 


THE  famous  night  of  the  fire  at  Valpinson  had  been 
a  godsend  to  the  good  people  of  Sauveterre.  They 
had  henceforth  an  inexhaustible  topic  of  discussion, 
ever  new  and  ever  rich  in  unexpected  conjectures, — 
the  Boiscoran  case.  When  people  met  in  the  streets, 
they  simply  asked, — 

"  What  are  they  doing  now  ?  " 

Whenever,  therefore,  M.  Galpin  went  from  the 
court-house  to  the  prison,  or  came  striding  up  Na- 
tional Street  with  his  stiff,  slow  step,  twenty  good 
housewives  peeped  from  behind  their  curtains  to  read 
in  his  face  some  of  the  secrets  of  the  trial.  They 
saw,  however,  nothing  there  but  traces  of  intense  anx- 
iety, and  a  pallor  which  became  daily  more  marked. 
They  said  to  each  other, — 

"  You  will  see  poor  M.  Galpin  will  catch  the  jaun- 
dice from  it." 

The  expression  was  commonplace;  but  it  conveyed 
exactly  the  feelings  of  the  ambitious  lawyer.  This 
Boiscoran  case  had  become  like  a  festering  wound  to 
him,  which  irritated  him  incessantly  and  intolerably. 

"  I  have  lost  my  sleep  by  it,"  he  told  the  common- 
wealth attorney.  Excellent  M.  Daubigeon,  who  had 
great  trouble  in  moderating  his  zeal,  did  not  pity  him 
particularly.  He  would  say  in  reply, — 

"  Whose  fault  is  it  ?  But  you  want  to  rise  in  the 
world;  and  increasing  fortune  is  always  followed  by 
increasing  care, — 

'  Crescentem  sequitur  cura  pecuniam 
Majorumque  fames.' " 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     259 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  magistrate,  "  I  have  only  done  my 
duty;  and,  if  I  had  to  begin  again,  I  would  do  just  the 
same." 

Still  every  day  he  saw  more  clearly  that  he  was  in  a 
false  position.  Public  opinion,  strongly  arrayed 
against  M.  de  Boiscoran,  was  not,  on  that  account, 
very  favorable  to  him.  Everybody  believed  Jacques 
guilty,  and  wanted  him  to  be  punished  with  all  the 
rigor  of  the  law ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  everybody 
was  astonished  that  M.  Galpin  should  choose  to  act 
as  magistrate  in  such  a  case.  There  was  a  touch  of 
treachery  in  this  proceeding  against  a  former  friend, 
in  looking  everywhere  for  evidence  against  him,  in 
driving  him  into  court,  that  is  to  say,  towards  the 
galleys  or  the  scaffold ;  and  this  revolted  people's  con- 
science. 

The  very  way  in  which  people  returned  his  greet- 
ing, or  avoided  him  altogether,  made  the  magistrate 
aware  of  the  feelings  they  entertained  for  him.  This 
only  increased  his  wrath  against  Jacques,  and,  with 
it,  his  trouble.  He  had  been  congratulated,  it  is  true, 
by  the  attorney-general ;  but  there  is  no  certainty  in  a 
trial,  as  long  as  the  accused  refuses  to  confess.  The 
charges  against  Jacques,  to  be  sure,  were  so  over- 
whelming, that  his  being  sent  before  the  court  was  out 
of  question.  But  by  the  side  of  the  court  there  is  still 
the  jury. 

"  And  in  fine,  my  dear,"  said  the  commonwealth 
attorney,  "  you  have  not  a  single  eye-witness.  And 
from  time  immemorial  an  eye-witness  has  been  looked 
upon  as  worth  a  hundred  hearsays." 

"  I  have  Cocoleu,"  said  M.  Galpin,  who  was  rather 
impatient  of  all  these  objections. 

"  Have  the  doctors  decided  that  he  is  not  an  idiot  ?  " 


26o     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

"  No :  Dr.  Seignebos  alone  maintains  that  doctrine." 

"  Well,  at  least  Cocoleu  is  willing  to  repeat  his  evi- 
dence ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Why,  then  you  have  virtually  no  witness !  " 

Yes,  M.  Galpin  understood  it  but  too  well,  and 
hence  his  anxiety.  The  more  he  studied  his  accused, 
the  more  he  found  him  in  an  enigmatic  and  threaten- 
ing position,  which  was  ominous  of  evil. 

"  Can  he  have  an  alibi  f  "  he  thought.  "  Or  does 
he  hold  in  reserve  one  of  those  unforeseen  revelations, 
which  at  the  last  moment  destroy  the  whole  edifice  of 
the  prosecution,  and  cover  the  prosecuting  attorney 
with  ridicule  ?  " 

Whenever  these  thoughts  occurred  to  him,  they 
made  big  drops  of  perspiration  run  down  his  temples ; 
and  then  he  treated  his  poor  clerk  Mechinet  like  a 
slave.  And  that  was  not  all.  Although  he  lived 
more  retired  than  ever,  since  this  case  had  begun, 
many  a  report  reached  him  from  the  Chandore 
family. 

To  be  sure,  he  was  a  thousand  miles  from  imagining 
that  they  had  actually  opened  communications  with 
the  prisoner,  and,  what  is  more,  that  this  intercourse 
was  carried  on  by  Mechinet,  his  own  clerk.  He  would 
have  laughed  if  one  had  come  and  told  him  that  Diony- 
sia  had  spent  a  night  in  prison,  and  paid  Jacques  a 
visit.  But  he  heard  continually  of  the  hopes  and  the 
plans  of  the  friends  and  relations  of  his  prisoner ;  and 
he  remembered,  not  without  secret  fear  and  trembling, 
that  they  were  rich  and  powerful,  supported  by  rela- 
tions in  high  places,  beloved  and  esteemed  by  every- 
body. He  knew  that  Dionysia  was  surrounded  by 
devoted  and  intelligent  men,  by  M.  de  Chandore,  M. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     261 

Seneschal,  Dr.  Seignebos,  M.  Magloire,  and,  finally, 
that  advocate  whom  the  Marchioness  de  Boiscoran 
had  brought  down  with  her  from  Paris,  M.  Folgat. 

"  And  Heaven  knows  what  they  would  not  try,"  he 
thought  "  to  rescue  the  guilty  man  from  the  hands 
of  justice! " 

It  may  well  be  said,  therefore,  that  never  was  prose- 
cution carried  on  with  as  much  passionate  zeal  or  as 
much  minute  assiduity.  Every  one  of  the  points  upon 
which  the  prosecution  relied  became,  for  M.  Galpin, 
a  subject  of  special  study.  In  less  than  a  fortnight 
he  examined  sixty-seven  witnesses  in  his  office.  He 
summoned  the  fourth  part  of  the  population  of  Brechy. 
He  would  have  summoned  the  whole  country,  if  he 
had  dared. 

But  all  his  efforts  were  fruitless.  After  weeks  of 
furious  investigations,  the  inquiry  was  still  at  the  same 
point,  the  mystery  was  still  impenetrable.  The  pris- 
oner had  not  refuted  any  of  the  charges  made  against 
him ;  but  the  magistrate  had,  also,  not  obtained  a  sin- 
gle additional  piece  of  evidence  after  those  he  had 
secured  on  the  first  day. 

There  must  be  an  end  of  this,  however. 

One  warm  afternoon  in  July,  the  good  ladies  in 
National  Street  thought  they  noticed  that  M.  Galpin 
looked  even  more  anxious  than  usual.  They  were 
right.  After  a  long  conference  with  the  common- 
wealth attorney  and  the  presiding  judge,  the  magis- 
trate had  made  up  his  mind.  When  he  reached  the 
prison,  he  went  to  Jacques's  cell  and  there,  concealing 
his  embarrassment  under  the  greatest  stiffness,  he 
said, — 

"  My  painful  duty  draws  to  an  end,  sir :  the  inquiry 
with  which  I  have  been  charged  will  be  closed.  To- 


262     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

morrow  the  papers,  with  a  list  of  the  objects  to  be 
used  as  evidence,  will  be  sent  to  the  attorney-general, 
to  be  submitted  to  the  court." 

Jacques  de  Boiscoran  did  not  move. 

"Well,"  he  said  simply. 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  add,  sir  ?  "  asked  M.  Galpin. 

"  Nothing,  except  that  I  am  innocent." 

M.  Galpin  found  it  difficult  to  repress  his  impa- 
tience. He  said, — 

"  Well,  then,  prove  it.  Refute  the  charges  which 
have  been  brought  against  you,  which  overwhelm  you, 
which  induce  me,  the  court,  and  everybody  else,  to 
consider  you  guilty.  Speak,  and  explain  your  con- 
duct." 

Jacques  kept  obstinately  silent. 

"  Your  resolution  is  fixed,"  said  the  magistrate  once 
more,  "  you  refuse  to  say  any  thing  ?  " 

"  I  am  innocent." 

M.  Galpin  saw  clearly  tkat  it  was  useless  to  insist 
any  longer. 

"  From  this  moment,"  he  said,  "  you  are  no  longer 
in  close  confinement.  You  scan  receive  the  visits  of 
your  family  in  the  prison  parlor.  The  advocate  whom 
you  will  choose  will  be  admitted  to  your  cell  to  con- 
sult with  you." 

"  At  last !  "  exclaimed  Jacques  with  explosive  de- 
light ;  and  then  he  added, — 

"  Am  I  at  liberty  to  write  to  M.  de  Chandore  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  M.  Galpin,  "  and,  if  you  choose  to 
write  at  once,  my  clerk  will  be  happy  to  carry  your 
letter  this  evening  to  its  destination." 

Jacques  de  Boiscoran  availed  himself  on  the  spot  of 
this  permission;  and  he  had  done  very  soon,  for  the 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     263 

note  which  he  wrote,  and  handed  to  M.  Mechinet,  con- 
tained only  the  few  words, — 

"  I  shall  expect  M.  Magloire  to-morrow  morning  at 
nine.  J." 

Ever  since  the  day  on  which  they  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  a  false  step  might  have  the  most  fatal 
consequences,  Jacques  de  Boiscoran's  friends  had  ab- 
stained from  doing  any  thing.  Besides,  what  would 
have  been  the  use  of  any  efforts?  Dr.  Seignebos's 
request,  though  unsupported,  had  been  at  least  par- 
tially granted;  and  the  court  had  summoned  a  physi- 
cian from  Paris,  a  great  authority  on  insanity,  to 
determine  Cocoleu's  mental  condition.  It  was  on  a 
Saturday  that  Dr.  Seignebos  came  triumphantly  to  an- 
nounce the  good  news.  It  was  the  following  Tuesday 
that  he  had  to  report  his  discomfiture.  In  a  furious 
passion  he  said,; — 

"  There  are  asses  in  Paris  as  well  as  elsewhere ! 
Or,  rather,  in  these  days  of  trembling  egotism  and 
eager  servility,  an  independent  man  is  as  difficult  to 
find  in  Paris  as  in  the  provinces.  I  was  looking  for 
a  savant,  who  would  be  inaccessible  to  petty  considera- 
tions; and  they  send  me  a  trifling  fellow,  who  does 
not  dare  to  be  disagreeable  to  the  gentlemen  of  the 
bar.  Ah,  it  was  a  cruel  disappointment !  " 

And  all  the  time  worrying  his  spectacles,  he  went 
on, — 

"  I  had  been  informed  of  the  arrival  of  my  learned 
brother ;  and  I  went  to  receive  him  myself  at  the  rail- 
way station.  The  train  comes  in ;  and  at  once  I  make 
out  my  man  in  the  crowd :  a  fine  head  well  set  in 
grizzly  hair,  a  noble  eye,  eloquent  lips.  '  There  he 


264     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

is ! '  I  say  to  myself.  '  Hm  ! '  He  looked  rather 
dandyish,  to  be  sure,  a  lot  of  decorations  in  his  button- 
hole, whiskers  trimmed  as  carefully  as  the  box  in  my 
garden,  and,  instead  of  honest  spectacles,  a  pair  of 
eye-glasses.  But  no  man  is  perfect.  I  go  up  to  him, 
I  give  him  my  name,  we  shake  hands,  I  ask  him  to 
breakfast,  he  accepts ;  and  here  we  are  at  table,  he  do- 
ing justice  to  my  Bordeaux,  and  I  explaining  to  him 
the  case  systematically.  When  we  have  done,  he 
wishes  to  see  Cocoleu.  We  go  to  the  hospital;  and 
there,  after  merely  glancing  at  the  creature,  he  says, 
'  That  man  is  simply  the  most  complete  idiot  I  have 
ever  seen  in  my  life ! '  I  was  a  little  taken  aback,  and 
tried  to  explain  the  matter  to  him;  but  he  refuses  to 
listen  to  me.  I  beseech  him  to  see  Cocoleu  once  more : 
he  laughs  at  me.  I  feel  hurt,  and  ask  him  how  he  ex- 
plains the  evidence  which  this  idiot  gave  on  the  night 
of  the  fire.  He  laughs  again,  and  replies  that  he 
does  not  explain  it.  I  begin  to  discuss  the  question ; 
and  he  marches  off  to  court.  And  do  you  know  where 
he  dined  that  day  ?  at  the  hotel  with  my  other  learned 
brother  of  the  commission ;  and  there  they  draw  up  a 
report  which  makes  of  Cocoleu  the  most  perfect  im- 
becile that  was  ever  dreamed  of." 

He  was  walking  up  and  down  in  the  room  with  long 
strides,  and,  unwilling  to  listen,  he  went  on, — 

"  But  Master  Galpin  need  not  think  of  crowing  over 
us  yet.  The  end  is  not  yet;  they  will  not  get  rid  of 
Dr.  Seignebos  so  easily.  I  have  said  that  Cocoleu  was 
a  wretched  cheat,  a  miserable  impostor,  a  false  witness, 
and  I  shall  prove  it.  Boiscoran  can  count  upon  me." 

He  broke  off  here,  and,  placing  himself  before  M. 
Folgat,  he  added, — 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     265 

"  And  I  say  M.  de  Boiscoran  may  count  upon  me, 
because  I  have  my  reasons.  I  have  formed  very  sin- 
gular suspicions,  sir, — very  singular." 

M.  Folgat,  Dionysia,  and  the  marchioness  urged 
him  to  explain ;  but  he  declared  that  the  moment  had 
not  come  yet,  that  he  was  not  perfectly  sure  yet. 

And  he  left  again,  vowing  that  he  was  overworked, 
that  he  had  forsaken  his  patients  for  forty-eight  hours, 
and  that  the  Countess  Claudieuse  was  waiting  for  him, 
as  her  husband  was  getting  worse  and  worse. 

"  What  can  the  old  man  suspect  ? "  Grandpapa 
Chandore  asked  again,  an  hour  after  the  doctor  had 
left. 

M.  Folgat  might  have  replied  that  these  probable 
suspicions  were  no  doubt  his  own  suspicions,  only 
better  founded,  and  more  fully  developed.  But  why 
should  he  say  so,  since  all  inquiry  was  prohibited,  and 
a  single  imprudent  word  might  ruin  every  thing? 
Why,  also,  should  he  excite  new  hopes,  when  they 
must  needs  wait  patiently  till  it  should  seem  good  to 
M.  Galpin  to  make  an  end  to  this  melancholy  sus- 
pense ? 

They  heard  very  little  nowadays  of  Jacques  de 
Boiscoran.  The  examinations  took  place  only  at  long 
intervals ;  and  it  was  sometimes  four  or  five  days  be- 
fore Mechinet  brought  another  letter. 

"  This  is  intolerable  agony,"  repeated  the  marchion- 
ess over  and  over  again. 

The  end  was,  however,  approaching. 

Dionysia  was  alone  one  afternoon  in  the  sitting- 
room,  when  she  thought  she  heard  the  clerk's  voice  in 
the  hall.  She  went  out  at  once  and  found  him  there. 

"  Ah,"    she    cried,    "  the    investigation  is  ended !  " 


266     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

For  she  knew  very  well  that  nothing  less  would  have 
emboldened  Mechinet  to  show  himself  openly  at  their 
house. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  madam ! "  replied  the  good  man ; 
"  and  upon  M.  Galpin's  own  order  I  bring  you  this 
letter  from  M.  de  Boiscoran." 

She  took  it,  read  it  at  a  single  glance,  and  forgetting 
every  thing,  half  delirious  with  joy,  she  ran  to  her 
grandfather  and  M.  Folgat,  calling  upon  a  servant  at 
the  same  time  to  run  and  fetch  M.  Magloire. 

In  less  than  an  hour,  the  eminent  advocate  of 
Sauveterre  arrived ;  and  when  Jacques's  letter  had  been 
handed  to  him,  he  said  with  some  embarrassment, — 

"  I  have  promised  M.  de  Boiscoran  my  assistance, 
and  he  shall  certainly  have  it.  I  shall  be  at  the  prison 
to-morrow  morning  as  soon  as  the  doors  open,  and  I 
will  tell  you  the  result  of  our  interview." 

He  would  say  nothing  more.  It  was  very  evident 
that  he  did  not  believe  in  the  innocence  of  his  client ; 
and,  as  soon  as  he  had  left,  M.  de  Chandore  ex- 
claimed,— 

"Jacques  is  mad  to  intrust  his  defence  to  a  man 
who  doubts  him." 

"  M.  Magloire  is  an  honorable  man,  papa,"  said 
Dionysia ;  "  and,  if  he  thought  he  could  compromise 
Jacques,  he  would  resign." 

Yes,  indeed,  M.  Magloire  was  an  honorable  man, 
and  quite  accessible  to  tender  sentiments ;  for  he  felt 
very  reluctant  to  go  and  see  the  prisoner,  charged  as 
he  was  with  an  odious  crime,  and,  as  he  thought,  justly 
charged, — a  man  who  had  been  his  friend,  and  whom, 
in  spite  of  all,  he  could  not  help  loving  still. 

He  could  not  sleep  for  it  that  night;  and  all  noticed 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     267 

his  anxious  air  as  he  crossed  the  street  next  morning 
on  his  way  to  the  jail.  Blangin  the  keeper  was  on  the 
lookout  for  him,  and  cried, — 

"  Ah,  come  quick,  sir !  the  accused  is  devoured  with 
impatience." 

Slowly,  and  his  heart  beating  furiously,  the  famous 
advocate  went  up  the  narrow  stairs.  He  crossed  the 
long  passage;  Blangin  opened  a  door;  he  was  in 
Jacques  de  Boiscoran's  cell. 

"  At  last  you  are  coming,"  exclaimed  the  unhappy 
young  man,  throwing  himself  on  the  lawyer's  neck. 
"  At  last  I  see  an  honest  face,  and  hold  a  trusty  hand. 
Ah !  I  have  suffered  cruelly,  so  cruelly,  that  I  am  sur- 
prised my  mind  has  not  given  way.  But  now  you  are 
here,  you  are  by  my  side,  I  am  safe." 

The  lawyer  could  not  speak.  He  was  terrified  by 
the  havoc  which  grief  had  made  of  the  noble  and  in- 
telligent face  of  his  friend.  He  was  shocked  at  the 
distortion  of  his  features,  the  unnatural  brilliancy  of 
his  eyes,  and  the  convulsive  laugh  on  his  lips. 

"  Poor  man !  "  he  murmured  at  last. 

Jacques  misunderstood  him:  he  stepped  back,  as 
white  as  the  walls  of  his  cell. 

"You  do  not  think  me  guilty?"  he  exclaimed. 

An  inexpressibly  sad  expression  convulsed  his  fea- 
tures. 

"  To  be  sure,"  he  went  on  with  his  terrible  convul- 
sive laughter,  "  the  charges  must  be  overwhelming 
indeed,  if  they  have  convinced  my  best  friends.  Alas ! 
why  did  I  refuse  to  speak  that  first  day  ?  My  honor ! 
— what  a  phantom !  And  still,  victimized  as  I  am  by 
an  infamous  conspiracy,  I  should  still  refuse  to  speak, 
if  my  life  alone  were  at  stake.  But  my  honor  is  at 


268     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

stake,  Dionysia's  honor,  the  honor  of  the  Boiscorans. 
I  shall  speak.  You,  M.  Magloire,  shall  know  the 
truth :  you  shall  see  my  innocence  in  a  word." 

And,  seizing  M.  Magloire's  hand,  he  pressed  it  al- 
most painfully,  as  he  added  in  a  hoarse  voice, — 

"  One  word  will  explain  the  whole  thing  to  you : 
I  was  the  lover  of  the  Countess  Claudieuse !  " 


XIII. 

IF  he  had  been  less  distressed,  Jacques  de  Boiscoran 
would  have  seen  how  wisely  he  had  acted  in  choosing 
'for  his  defender  the  great  advocate  of  Sauveterre.  A 
stranger,  M.  Folgat,  for  instance,  would  have  heard 
him  silently,  and  would  have  seen  in  the  revelation 
nothing  but  the  fact  without  giving  it  a  personal  value. 
In  M.  Magloire,  on  the  contrary,  he  saw  what  the 
whole  country  would  feel.  And  M.  Magloire,  when 
he  heard  him  declare  that  the  Countess  Claudieuse  had 
been  his  mistress,  looked  indignant,  and  exclaimed, — 

"  That  is  impossible." 

At  least  Jacques  was  not  surprised.  He  had  been 
the  first  to  say  that  they  would  refuse  to  believe  him 
when  he  should  speak ;  and  this  conviction  had  largely 
influenced  him  in  keeping  silence  so  long. 

"  It  is  improbable,  I  know,"  he  said ;  "  and  still  it 
is  so." 

"  Give  me  proofs !  "  said  M.  Magloire. 

"  I  have  no  proofs." 

The  melancholy  and  sympathizing  expression  of  the 
great  lawyer  changed  instantly.  He  sternly  glanced 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     269 

at  the  prisoner;  and  his  eye  spoke  of  amazement  and 
indignation. 

"  There  are  things,"  he  said,  "  which  it  is  rash  to 
affirm  when  one  is  not  able  to  support  them  with 
proof.  Consider  " — 

"  My  situation  forces  me  to  tell  all." 

"  Why,  then,  did  you  wait  so  long  ?  " 

"  I  hoped  I  should  be  spared  such  a  fearful  ex- 
tremity." 

"By  whom?" 

"  By  the  countess." 

M.  Magloire's  face  became  darker  and  darker. 

"  I  am  not  often  accused  of  partiality,"  he  said. 
"  Count  Claudieuse  is,  perhaps,  the  only  enemy  I  have 
in  this  country;  but  he  is  a  bitter,  fierce  enemy.  To 
keep  me  out  of  the  Chamber,  and  to  prevent  my  ob- 
taining many  votes,  he  stooped  to  acts  unworthy  of 
a  gentleman.  I  do  not  like  him.  But  in  justice  I 
must  say  that  I  look  upon  the  countess  as  the  lofti- 
est, the  purest,  and  noblest  type  of  the  woman,  the 
wife,  and  the  mother." 

A  bitter  smile  played  on  Jacques's  lips. 

"  And  still  I  have  been  her  lover,"  he  said. 

"  When  ?  How  ?  The  countess  lived  at  Valpin- 
son :  you  lived  in  Paris." 

"  Yes ;  but  every  year  the  countess  came  and  spent 
the  month  of  September  in  Paris;  and  I  came  occa- 
sionally to  Boiscoran." 

"  It  is  very  singular  that  such  an  intrigue  should 
never  have  been  suspected  even." 

"  We  managed  to  take  our  precautions." 

"And  no  one  ever  suspected  any  thing?" 

"  No  one." 

But  Jacques  was  at  last  becoming  impatient  at  the 


27o     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

attitude  assumed  by  M.  Magloire.  He  forgot  that  he 
had  foreseen  all  the  suspicions  to  which  he  found  now 
he  was  exposed. 

"Why  do  you  ask  all  these  questions?"  he  said. 
"  You  do  not  believe  me.  Well,  be  it  so !  Let  me  at 
least  try  to  convince  you.  Will  you  listen  to  me  ?  " 

M.  Magloire  drew  up  a  chair,  and  sitting  down,  not 
as  usually,  but  across  the  chair,  and  resting  his  arms 
on  the  back,  he  said,— 

"  I  listen." 

Jacques  de  Boiscoran,  who  had  been  almost  livid, 
became  crimson  with  anger.  His  eyes  flashed  wrath. 
That  he,  he  should  be  treated  thus !  Never  had  all 
the  haughtiness  of  M.  Galpin  offended  him  half  as 
much  as  this  cool,  disdainful  condescension  on  the 
part  of  M.  Magloire.  It  occurred  to  him  to  order 
him  out  of  his  room.  But  what  then  ?  He  was  con- 
demned to  drain  the  bitter  cup  to  the  very  dregs :  for 
he  must  save  himself;  he  must  get  out  of  this  abyss. 

"  You  are  cruel,  Magloire,"  he  said  in  a  voice  of 
ill-suppressed  indignation,  "  and  you  make  me  feel 
all  the  horrors  of  my  situation  to  the  full.  Ah,  do  not 
apologize!  It  does  not  matter.  Let  me  speak." 

He  walked  up  and  down  a  few  times  in  his  cell, 
passing  his  hand  repeatedly  over  his  brow,  as  if  to  re- 
call his  memory.  Then  he  began,  in  a  calmer  tone  of 
voice, — 

"  It  was  in  the  first  days  of  the  month  of  August, 
in  1866,  and  at  Boiscoran,  where  I  was  on  a  visit  to 
my  uncle,  that  I  saw  the  Countess  Claudieuse  for  the 
first  time.  Count  Claudieuse  and  my  uncle  were,  at 
that  time,  on  very  bad  terms  with  each  other,  thanks 
to  that  unlucky  little  stream  which  crosses  our  estates ; 
and  a  common  friend,  M.  de  Besson,  had  undertaken 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     271 

to  reconcile  them  at  a  dinner  to  which  he  had  invited 
both.  My  uncle  had  taken  me  with  him.  The  count- 
ess had  come  with  her  husband.  I  was  just  twenty 
years  old;  she  was  twenty-six.  When  I  saw  her,  I 
was  overcome.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  never  in 
all  my  life  met  a  woman  so  perfectly  beautiful  and 
graceful;  that  I  had  never  seen  so  charming  a  face, 
such  beautiful  eyes,  and  such  a  sweet  smile. 

"  She  did  not  seem  to  notice  me.  I  did  not  speak  to 
her;  and  still  I  felt  within  me  a  kind  of  presentiment 
that  this  woman  would  play  a  great,  a  fatal  part  in  my 
life. 

"  This  impression  was  so  strong,  that,  as  we  left  the 
house,  I  could  not  keep  from  mentioning  it  to  my 
uncle.  He  only  laughed,  and  said  that  I  was  a  fool, 
and  that,  if  my  existence  should  ever  be  troubled  by  a 
woman,  it  would  certainly  not  be  by  the  Countess 
Claudieuse. 

"  He  was  apparently  right.  It  was  hard  to  imagine 
that  any  thing  should  ever  again  bring  me  in  contact 
with  the  countess.  M.  de  Besson's  attempt  at  recon- 
ciliation had  utterly  failed ;  the  countess  lived  at  Val- 
pinson ;  and  I  went  back  to  Paris. 

"  Still  I  was  unable  to  shake  off  the  impression ;  and 
the  memory  of  the  dinner  at  M.  de  Besson's  house  was 
still  in  my  mind,  when  a  month  later,  at  a  party  at  my 
mother's  brother's,  M.  de  Chalusse,  I  thought  I  recog- 
nized the  Countess  Claudieuse.  It  was  she.  I  bowed, 
and,  seeing  that  she  recognized  me,  I  went  up  to  her, 
trembling,  and  she  allowed  me  to  sit  down  by  her. 

"  She  told  me  then  that  she  had  come  up  to  Paris 
for  a  month,  as  she  did  every  year,  and  that  she  was 
staying  at  her  father's,  the  Marquis  de  Tassar.  She 
had  come  to  this  party  much  against  her  inclination, 


272     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

as  she  disliked  going  out.  She  did  not  dance;  and 
thus  I  talked  to  her  till  the  moment  when  she  left. 

"  I  was  madly  in  love  when  we  parted ;  and  still  I 
made  no  effort  to  see  her  again.  It  was  mere  chance 
again  which  brought  us  together. 

"  One  day  I  had  business  at  Melun,  and,  reaching 
the  station  rather  late,  I  had  but  just  time  to  jump  into 
the  nearest  car.  In  the  compartment  was  the  countess. 
She  told  me — and  that  is  all  I  ever  recollected  of  the 
whole  conversation — that  she  was  on  her  way  to  Fon- 
tainebleau  to  see  a  friend,  with  whom  she  spent  every 
Tuesday  and  Saturday.  Usually  she  took  the  nine 
o'clock  train. 

"  This  was  on  a  Tuesday ;  and  during  the  next  three 
days  a  great  struggle  went  on  in  my  heart.  I  was 
desperately  in  love  with  the  countess,  and  still  I  was 
afraid  of  her.  But  my  evil  star  conquered;  and  the 
next  Saturday,  at  nine  o'clock,  I  was  at  the  station 
again. 

"  The  countess  has  since  confessed  to  me  that  she 
expected  me.  When  she  saw  me,  she  made  a  sign; 
and,  when  they  opened  the  doors,  I  managed  to  find  a 
place  by  her  side." 

M.  Magloire  had  for  some  minutes  given  signs  of 
great  impatience ;  now  he  broke  forth, — 

"  This  is  too  improbable  !  " 

At  first  Jacques  de  Boiscoran  made  no  reply.  It 
was  no  easy  task  for  a  man,  tried  as  he  had  been  of 
late,  to  stir  up  thus  the  ashes  of  the  past ;  and  it  made 
him  shudder.  He  was  amazed  at  seeing  on  his  lips  this 
secret  which  he  had  so  long  buried  in  his  innermost 
heart.  Besides,  he  had  loved,  loved  in  good  earnest; 
and  his  love  had  been  returned.  And  there  are  certain 
sensations  which  come  to  us  only  once  in  life,  and 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     273 

which  can  never  again  be  effaced.  He  was  moved  to 
tears.  But  as  the  eminent  advocate  of  Sauveterre  re- 
peated his  words,  and  even  added, — 

"  No,  it  is  not  credible ! " 

"  I  do  not  ask  you  to  believe  me,"  he  said  gently : 
"  I  only  ask  you  to  hear  me." 

And,  overcoming  with  all  his  energy  the  kind  of 
torpor  which  was  mastering  him,  he  continued, — 

"  This  trip  to  Fontainebleau  decided  our  fate.  Other 
trips  followed.  The  countess  spent  her  days  with  her 
friend,  and  I  passed  the  long  hours  in  roaming  through 
the  woods.  But  in  the  evening  we  met  again  at  the 
station.  We  took  a  coupe,  which  I  had  engaged  be- 
forehand, and  I  accompanied  her  in  a  carriage  to  her 
father's  house. 

"  Finally,  one  evening,  she  left  her  friend's  house  at 
the  usual  hour;  but  she  did  not  return  to  her  father's 
house  till  the  day  after." 

"  Jacques !  "  broke  in  M.  Magloire,  shocked,  as  if 
he  had  heard  a  curse, — "  Jacques !  " 

M.  de  Boiscoran  remained  unmoved. 

"  Oh !  "  he  said,  "  I  know  you  must  think  it  strange. 
You  fancy  that  there  is  no  excuse  for  the  man  who 
betrays  the  confidence  of  a  woman  who  has  once  given 
herself  to  him.  Wait,  before  you  judge  me." 

And  he  went  on,  in  a  firmer  tone  of  voice, — 

"  At  that  time  I  thought  I  was  the  happiest  man  on 
earth ;  and  my  heart  was  full  of  the  most  absurd  van- 
ity at  the  thought  that  she  was  mine,  this  beautiful 
woman,  whose  purity  was  high  above  all  calumny.  I 
had  tied  around  my  neck  one  of  those  fatal  ropes  which 
death  alone  can  sever,  and,  fool  that  I  was,  I  consid- 
ered myself  happy. 

"  Perhaps   she  really  loved  me  at  that  time.     At 


274     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

least  she  did  not  hesitate,  and,  overcome  by  the  only 
real  great  passion  of  her  life,  she  told  me  all  that  was 
in  her  innermost  heart.  At  that  time  she  did  not  think 
yet  of  protecting  herself  against  me,  and  of  making 
me  her  slave.  She  told  me  the  secret  of  her  marriage, 
which  had  at  one  time  created  such  a  sensation  in  the 
whole  country. 

"  When  her  father,  the  Marquis  de  Brissac,  had 
given  up  his  place,  he  had  soon  begun  to  feel  his  in- 
activity weigh  upon  him,  and  at  the  same  time  he  had 
become  impatient  at  the  narrowness  of  his  means.  He 
had  ventured  upon  hazardous  speculations.  He  had 
lost  every  thing  he  had;  and  even  his  honor  was  at 
stake.  In  his  despair  he  was  thinking  of  suicide,  when 
chance  brought  to  his  house  a  former  comrade,  Count 
Claudieuse.  In  a  moment  of  confidence,  the  marquis 
confessed  every  thing;  and  the  other  had  promised  to 
rescue  him,  and  save  him  from  disgrace.  That  was 
noble  and  grand.  It  must  have  cost  an  immense  sum. 
And  the  friends  of  our  youth  who  are  capable  of  ren- 
dering us  such  services  are  rare  in  our  day.  Unfor- 
tunately, Count  Claudieuse  could  not  all  the  time  be 
the  hero  he  had  been  at  first.  He  saw  Genevieve  de 
Tassar.  He  was  struck  with  her  beauty ;  and  over- 
come by  a  sudden  passion — forgetting  that  she  was 
twenty,  while  he  was  nearly  fifty — he  made  his  friend 
aware  that  he  was  still  willing  to  render  him  all  the 
services  in  his  power,  but  that  he  desired  to  obtain 
Genevieve's  hand  in  return. 

"  That  very  evening  the  ruined  nobleman  entered 
his  daughter's  room,  and,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  ex- 
plained to  her  his  terrible  situation.  She  did  not  hesi- 
tate a  moment. 

"  '  Above  all,'  she  said  to  her  father,  '  let  us  save 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     275 

our  honor,  which  even  your  death  would  not  restore. 
Count  Claudieuse  is  cruel  to  forget  that  he  is  thirty 
years  older  than  I  am.  From  this  moment  I  hate  and 
despise  him.  Tell  him  I  am  willing  to  be  his  wife.' 

"  And  when  her  father,  overcome  with  grief,  told  her 
that  the  count  would  never  accept  her  hand  in  this 
form,  she  replied, — 

"  '  Oh,  do  not  trouble  yourself  about  that !  I  shall 
do  the  thing  handsomely,  and  your  friend  shall  have 
no  right  to  complain.  But  I  know  what  I  am  worth ; 
and  you  must  remember  hereafter,  that,  whatever  serv- 
ice he  may  render  you,  you  owe  him  nothing.' 

"  Less  than  a  fortnight  after  this  scene,  Genevieve 
had  allowed  the  count  to  perceive  that  he  was  not  in- 
different to  her  and  a  month  later  she  became  his  wife. 

"  The  count,  on  his  side,  had  acted  with  the  utmost 
delicacy  and  tact;  so  that  no  one  suspected  the  cruel 
position  of  the  Marquis  de  Tassar.  He  had  placed  two 
hundred  thousand  francs  in  his  hands  to  settle  his  most 
pressing  debts.  In  his  marriage-contract  he  had  ac- 
knowledged having  received  with  his  wife  a  dower  of 
the  same  amount ;  and  finally,  he  had  bound  himself  to 
pay  to  his  father-in-law  and  his  wife  an  annual  income 
of  ten  thousand  francs.  This  had  absorbed  more  than 
half  of  all  he  possessed." 

M.  Magloire  no  longer  thought  of  protesting.  Sit- 
ting stiffly  on  his  chair,  his  eyes  wide  open,  like  a  man 
who  asks  himself  whether  he  is  asleep  or  awake,  he 
murmured, — 

"  That  is  incomprehensible !    That  is  unheard  of !  " 

Jacques  was  becoming  gradually  excited.  He  went 
on, — 

"  This  is,  at  least,  what  the  countess  told  me  in  her 
first  hours  of  enthusiasm.  But  she  told  it  to  me  calmly, 


276     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

coldly,  like  a  thing  that  was  perfectly  natural.  '  Cer- 
tainly/ she  said,  '  Count  Claudieuse  has  never  had  to 
regret  the  bargain  he  made.  If  he  has  been  generous, 
I  have  been  faithful.  My  father  owes  his  life  to  him ; 
but  I  have  given  him  years  of  happiness  to  which  he 
was  not  entitled.  If  he  has  received  no  love,  he  has 
had  all  the  appearance  of  it,  and  an  appearance  far 
more  pleasant  than  the  reality.' 

"  When  I  could  not  conceal  my  astonishment,  she 
added,  laughing  heartily, — 

" '  Only  I  brought  to  the  bargain  a  mental  reserva- 
tion. I  reserved  to  myself  the  right  to  claim  my  share 
of  earthly  happiness  whenever  it  should  come  within 
my  reach.  That  share  is  yours,  Jacques;  and  do  not 
fancy  that  I  am  troubled  by  remorse.  As  long  as  my 
husband  thinks  he  is  happy,  I  am  within  the  terms  of 
the  contract. 

"  That  was  the  way  she  spoke  at  that  time,  Ma- 
gloire ;  and  a  man  of  more  experience  would  have  been 
frightened.  But  I  was  a  child ;  I  loved  her  with  all 
my  heart.  I  admired  her  genius ;  I  was  overcome  by 
her  sophisms. 

"  A  letter  from  Count  Claudieuse  aroused  us  from 
our  dreams. 

"  The  countess  had  committed  the  only  and  the  last 
imprudence  of  her  whole  life :  she  had  remained  three 
weeks  longer  in  Paris  than  was  agreed  upon ;  and  her 
impatient  husband  threatened  to  come  for  her. 

"  '  I  must  go  back  to  Valpinson,'  she  said ;  '  for 
there  is  nothing  I  would  not  do  to  keep  up  the  reputa- 
tion I  have  managed  to  make  for  myself.  My  life, 
your  life,  my  daughter's  life — I  would  give  them  all, 
without  hesitation,  to  protect  my  reputation.' 

"  This  happened — ah !  the  dates  have  remained  fixed 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     277 

in  my  mind  as  if  engraven  on  bronze — on  the  I2th 
October. 

"  '  I  cannot  remain  longer  than  a  month/  she  said 
to  me, '  without  seeing  you.  A  month  from  to-day,  that 
is  to  say,  on  I2th  November,  at  three  o'clock  precisely, 
you  must  be  in  the  forest  of  Rochepommier,  at  the  Red 
Men's  Cross-roads.  I  will  be  there.' 

"  And  she  left  Paris.  I  was  in  such  a  state  of  de- 
lirium, that  I  scarcely  felt  the  pain  of  parting.  The 
thought  of  being  loved  by  such  a  woman  filled  me  with 
extreme  pride,  and,  no  doubt,  saved  me  from  many  an 
excess.  Ambition  was  rising  within  me  whenever  I 
thought  of  her.  I  wanted  to  work,  to  distinguish  my- 
self, to  become  eminent  in  some  way. 

"  '  I  want  her  to  be  proud  of  me/  I  said  to  myself, 
ashamed  at  being  nothing  at  my  age  but  the  son  of  a 
rich  father." 

Ten  times,  at  least,  M.  Magloire  had  risen  from  his 
chair,  and  moved  his  lips,  as  if  about  to  make  some  ob- 
jection. But  he  had  pledged  himself,  in  his  own  mind, 
not  to  interrupt  Jacques,  and  he  did  his  best  to  keep  his 
pledge. 

"  In  the  meantime,"  Jacques  went  on,  "  the  day 
fixed  by  the  countess  was  drawing  near.  I  went  down 
to  Boiscoran ;  and  on  the  appointed  day,  at  the  precise 
hour,  I  was  in  the  forest  at  the  Red  Men's  Cross-roads. 
I  was  somewhat  behind  time,  and  I  was  extremely 
sorry  for  it:  but  I  did  not  know  the  forest  very 
well,  and  the  place  chosen  by  the  countess  for  the 
rendezvous  is  in  the  very  thickest  part  of  the 
old  wood.  The  weather  was  unusually  severe  for  the 
season.  The  night  before,  a  heavy  snow  had  fallen: 
the  paths  were  all  white ;  and  a  sharp  wind  blew  the 
flakes  from  the  heavily-loaded  branches.  From  afar 


278     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

off,  I  distinguished  the  countess,  as  she  was  walking 
up  and  down  in  a  kind  of  feverish  excitement,  confin- 
ing herself  to  a  narrow  space,  where  the  ground  was 
dry,  and  where  she  was  sheltered  from  the  wind  by 
enormous  masses  of  stone.  She  wore  a  dress  of  dark- 
red  silk,  very  long,  a  cloak  trimmed  with  fur,  and  a  vel- 
vet hat  to  match  her  dress.  In  three  minutes  I  was  by 
her  side.  But  she  did  not  draw  her  hand  from  her 
muff  to  offer  it  to  me ;  and,  without  giving  me  time  to 
apologize  for  the  delay,  she  said  in  a  dry  tone, — 

"  '  When  did  you  reach  Boiscoran  ?  ' 

" '  Last  night.' 

"  '  How  childish  you  are ! '  she  exclaimed,  stamping 
her  foot.  '  Last  night !  And  on  what  pretext?  ' 

"  '  I  need  no  pretext  to  visit  my  uncle.' 

" '  And  was  he  not  surprised  to  see  you  drop  from 
the  clouds  at  this  time  of  the  year  ? ' 

"  '  Why,  yes,  a  little,'  I  answered  foolishly,  incapable 
as  I  was  of  concealing  the  truth. 

"  Her  dissatisfaction  increased  visibly. 

" '  And  how  did  you  get  here  ? '  she  commenced 
again.  '  Did  you  know  this  cross-road  ?  ' 

"  '  No,  I  inquired  about  it.' 

"  '  From  whom  ?  ' 

"  *  From  one  of  my  uncle's  servants ;  but  his  infor- 
mation was  so  imperfect,  that  I  lost  my  way.' 

"  She  looked  at  me  with  such  a  bitter,  ironical  smile, 
that  I  stopped. 

"  '  And  all  that,  you  think,  is  very  simple,'  she  broke 
in.  '  Do  you  really  imagine  people  will  think  it  very 
natural  that  you  should  thus  fall  like  a  bombshell  upon 
Boiscoran,  and  immediately  set  out  for  the  Red  Men's 
Cross-roads  in  the  forest?  Who  knows  but  you  have 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     279 

been  followed?    Who  knows  but  behind  one  of  these 
trees  there  may  be  eyes  even  now  watching  us  ? ' 

"  And  as  she  looked  around  with  all  the  signs  of 
genuine  fear,  I  answered, — 

"  '  And  what  do  you  fear  ?    Am  I  not  here  ?  ' 
1      "  I  think  I  can  even  now  see  the  look  in  her  eyes  as 
she  said, — 

: '  I  fear  nothing  in  the  world — do  you  hear  me  ? 
nothing  in  the  world,  except  being  suspected ;  for  I 
cannot  be  compromised.  I  like  to  do  as  I  do ;  I  like  to 
have  a  lover.  But  I  do  not  want  it  to  be  known;  be- 
cause, if  it  became  known,  there  would  be  mischief. 
Between  my  reputation  and  my  life  I  have  no  choice. 
If  I  were  to  be  surprised  here  by  any  one,  I  would 
rather  it  should  be  my  husband  than  a  stranger.  I 
have  no  love  for  the  count,  and  I  shall  never  forgive 
him  for  having  married  me ;  but  he  has  saved  my 
father's  honor,  and  I  owe  it  to  him  to  keep  his 
honor  unimpaired.  He  is  my  husband,  besides, 
and  the  father  of  my  child:  I  bear  his  name,  and  I 
want  it  to  be  respected.  I  should  die  with  grief  and 
shame  and  rage,  if  I  had  to  give  my  arm  to  a  man  at 
whom  people  might  look  and  smile.  Wives  are  ab- 
surdly stupid  when  they  do  not  feel  that  all  the  scorn 
with  which  their  unfortunate  husbands  are  received  in 
the  great  world  falls  back  upon  them.  No.  I  do  not 
love  the  count,  Jacques,  and  I  love  you.  But  remem- 
ber, that,  between  him  and  you,  I  should  not  hesitate 
a  moment,  and  that  I  should  sacrifice  your  life  and 
your  honor,  with  a  smile  on  my  lips,  even  though  my 
heart  should  break,  if  I  could,  by  so  doing,  spare  him 
the  shadow  of  a  suspicion.' 

"  I  was  about  to  reply ;  but  she  said, — 

"  '  No  more !    Every  minute  we  stay  here  increases 


28o     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

the  danger.     What  pretext  will  you  plead  for  your 
sudden  appearance  at  Boiscoran  ? ' 

"  '  I  do  not  know,'  I  replied. 

'  You  must  borrow  some  money  from  your  uncle, 
a  considerable  sum,  to  pay  your  debts.  He  will  be  an- 
gry, perhaps ;  but  that  will  explain  your  sudden  fancy 
for  travelling  in  the  month  of  November.  Good-by, 
good-by ! ' 

"  All  amazed,  I  cried, — 

"  '  What !  You  will  not  let  me  see  you  again,  at  least 
from  afar? ' 

"  '  During  this  visit  that  would  be  the  height  of  im- 
prudence. But,  stop!  Stay  at  Boiscoran  till  Sunday. 
Your  uncle  never  stays  away  from  high  mass :  go  with 
him  to  church.  But  be  careful,  control  yourself.  A 
single  imprudence,  one  blunder,  and  I  should  despise 
you.  Now  we  must  part.  You  will  find  in  Paris  a 
letter  from  me.' " 

Jacques  paused  here,  looking  to  read  in  M.  Ma- 
gloire's  face  what  impression  his  recital  had  produced 
so  far.  But  the  famous  lawyer  remained  impassive. 
He  sighed,  and  continued, — 

"  I  have  entered  into  all  these  details,  Magloire,  be- 
cause I  want  you  to  know  what  kind  of  a  woman  the 
countess  is,  so  that  you  may  understand  her  conduct. 
You  see  that  she  did  not  treat  me  like  a  traitor :  she  had 
given  me  fair  warning,  and  shown  me  the  abyss  into 
which  I  was  going  to  fall.  Alas !  so  far  from  being 
terrified,  these  dark  sides  of  her  character  only  at- 
tracted me  the  more.  I  admired  her  imperious  air,  her 
courage,  and  her  prudence,  even  her  total  lack  of  prin- 
ciple, which  contrasted  so  strangely  with  her  fear  of 
public  opinion.  I  said  to  myself  with  foolish  pride, — 

"  '  She  certainly  is  a  superior  woman ! ' 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE     281 

"  She  must  have  been  pleased  with  my  obedience  at 
church ;  for  I  managed  to  check  even  a  slight  trembling 
which  seized  me  when  I  saw  her  and  bowed  to  her 
as  she  passed  so  close  to  me  that  my  hand  touched 
her  dress.  I  obeyed  her  in  others  ways  also.  I  asked 
my  uncle  for  six  thousand  francs,  and  he  gave  them  to 
me,  laughing;  for  he  was  the  most  generous  man  on 
earth :  but  he  said  at  the  same  time, — 

"  '  I  thought  you  had  not  come  to  Boiscoran  merely 
for  the  purpose  of  exploring  the  forest  of  Rochepom- 
mier.' 

"  This  trifling  circumstance  increased  my  admira- 
tion for  the  Countess  Claudieuse.  How  well  she  had 
foreseen  my  uncle's  astonishment,  when  I  had  not  even 
dreamed  of  it ! 

'  She  has  a  genius  for  prudence/  I  thought. 

"  Yes,  indeed  she  had  a  genius  for  it,  and  a  genius 
for  calculation  also,  as  I  soon  found  out.  When  I 
reached  Paris,  I  found  a  letter  from  her  waiting  for 
me;  but  it  was  nothing  more  than  a  repetition  of  all 
she  had  told  me  at  our  meeting.  This  letter  was  fol- 
lowed by  several  others,  which  she  begged  me  to  keep 
for  her  sake,  and  which  all  had  a  number  in  the  upper 
corner. 

"  The  first  time  I  saw  her  again,  I  asked  her, — 

"  '  What  are  these  numbers  ?  ' 

" '  My  dear  M.  Jacques/  she  replied,  '  a  woman 
ought  always  to  know  how  many  letters  she  has  written 
to  her  lover.  Up  to  now,  you  must  have  had  nine.' 

"  This  occurred  in  May,  1867,  at  Rochefort,  where 
she  had  gone  to  be  present  at  the  launching  of  a  frig- 
ate, and  where  I  had  followed  her,  at  her  suggestion, 
with  a  view  to  spending  a  few  hours  in  each  other's 
company.  Like  a  fool,  I  laughed  at  the  idea  of  this 


282     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

epistolary  responsibility,  and  then  I  thought  no  more  of 
it.  I  was  at  that  time  too  busy  otherwise.  She  had 
recalled  to  me  the  fact  that  time  was  passing,  in  spite 
of  the  sadness  of  our  separation,  and  that  the  month  of 
September,  the  month  of  her  freedom,  was  drawing 
near.  Should  we  be  compelled  again,  like  the  year 
before,  to  resort  to  these  perilous  trips  to  Fontaine- 
bleau?  Why  not  get  a  house  in  a  remote  quarter  of 
town? 

"  Every  wish  of  hers  was  an  order  for  me.  My 
uncle's  liberality  knew  no  end.  I  bought  a  house." 

At  last,  in  the  midst  of  all  of  Jacques's  perplexities, 
there  appeared  a  circumstance  which  might  furnish 
tangible  evidence. 

M.  Magloire  started,  and  asked  eagerly, — 

"  Ah,  you  bought  a  house  ?  " 

"Yes,  a  nice  house  with  a  large  garden,  in  Vine 
Street,  Passy." 

"  And  you  own  it  still  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Of  course  you  have  the  title-papers  ?  " 

Jacques  looked  in  despair. 

"  Here,  again,  fate  is  against  me.  There  is  quite  a 
tale  connected  with  that  house." 

The  features  of  the  Sauveterre  lawyer  grew  dark 
again,  much  quicker  than  they  had  brightened  up 
just  now. 

"Ah!"  he  said,— "  a  tale,  ah !" 

"  I  was  scarcely  of  age,"  resumed  Jacques,  "  when 
I  wanted  to  purchase  this  house.  I  dreaded  difficulties. 
I  was  afraid  my  father  might  hear  of  it;  in  fine,  I 
wanted  to  be  as  prudent  as  the  countess  was.  I  asked, 
therefore,  one  of  my  English  friends,  Sir  Francis  Bur- 
nett, to  purchase  it  in  his  name.  He  agreed;  and  he 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     283 

handed  me,  with  the  necessary  bills  of  sale,  also  a  pa- 
per in  which  he  acknowledged  my  right  as  proprietor." 

"  But  then  "— 

"  Oh !  wait  a  moment.  I  did  not  take  these  papers  to 
my  rooms  in  my  father's  house.  I  put  them  into  a 
drawer  of  a  bureau  in  my  house  at  Passy.  When  the 
war  broke  out,  I  forgot  them.  I  had  left  Paris  before 
the  siege  began,  you  know,  being  in  command  of  a 
company  of  volunteers  from  this  department.  During 
the  two  sieges,  my  house  was  successively  occupied 
by  the  National  Guards,  the  soldiers  of  the  Commune, 
and  the  regular  troops.  When  I  went  back  there,  I 
found  the  four  walls  pierced  with  holes  by  the  shells ; 
but  all  the  furniture  had  disappeared,  and  with  it  the 
papers." 

"  And  Sir  Francis  Burnett?  " 

"  He  left  France  at  the  beginning  of  the  invasion ; 
and  I  do  not  know  what  has  become  of  him.  Two 
friends  of  his  in  England,  to  whom  I  wrote,  replied, — 
the  one  that  he  was  probably  in  Australia;  the  other 
that  he  was  dead." 

"  And  you  have  taken  no  other  steps  to  secure  your 
rights  to  a  piece  of  property  which  legally  belongs  to 
you?" 

"  No,  not  till  now." 

"  You  mean  to  say  virtually  that  there  is  in  Paris  a 
house  which  has  no  owner,  is  forgotten  by  everybody, 
and  unknown  even  to  the  tax-gatherer  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon !  The  taxes  have  always  been 
regularly  paid;  and  the  whole  neighborhood  knows 
that  I  am  the  owner.  But  the  individuality  is  not  the 
same.  I  have  unceremoniously  assumed  the  identity  of 
my  friend.  In  the  eyes  of  the  neighbors,  the  small 
dealers  near  by,  the  workmen  and  contractors  whom  I 


284     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

have  employed,  for  the  servants  and  the  gardener,  I 
am  Sir  Francis  Burnett.  Ask  them  about  Jacques  de 
Boiscoran,  and  they  will  tell  you,  '  Don't  know.'  Ask 
them  about  Sir  Francis  Burnett,  and  they  will  answer, 
'  Oh,  very  well ! '  and  they  will  give  you  my  portrait." 

M.  Magloire  shook  his  head  as  if  he  were  not  fully 
convinced. 

"  Then,"  he  asked  again,  "  you  declare  that  the 
Countess  Claudieuse  has  been  at  this  house  ?  " 

"  More  than  fifty  times  in  three  years." 

"  If  that  is  so,  she  must  be  known  there." 

"  No." 

"  But  "— 

"  Paris  is  not  like  Sauveterre,  my  dear  friend ;  and 
people  are  not  solely  occupied  with  their  neighbors' 
doings.  Vine  Street  is  quite  a  deserted  street ;  and  the 
countess  took  the  greatest  precautions  in  coming  and 
going." 

"  Well,  granted,  as  far  as  the  outside  world  is  con- 
cerned. But  within?  You  must  have  had  somebody 
to  stay  in  the  house  and  keep  it  in  order  when  you 
were  away,  and  to  wait  upon  you  when  you  were 
there?" 

"  I  had  an  English  maid-servant." 

"  Well,  this  girl  must  know  the  countess  ?  " 

"  She  has  never  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  even." 

"Oh!" 

"  When  the  countess  was  coming  down,  or  when  she 
was  going  away,  or  when  we  wanted  to  walk  in  the 
garden,  I  sent  the  girl  on  some  errand.  I  have  sent 
her  as  far  as  Orleans  to  get  rid  of  her  for  twenty-four 
hours.  The  rest  of  the  time  we  staid  up  stairs,  and 
waited  upon  ourselves." 

Evidently  M.  Magloire  was  suffering.    He  said, — 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     285 

"  You  must  be  under  a  mistake.  Servants  are  curi- 
ous, and  to  hide  from  them  is  only  to  make  them  mad 
with  curiosity.  That  girl  has  watched  you.  That  girl 
has  found  means  to  see  the  countess  when  she  came 
there.  She  must  be  examined.  Is  she  still  in  your 
service  ?  " 

"  No,  she  left  me  when  the  war  broke  out." 

"Why?" 

"  She  wanted  to  return  to  England." 

"  Then  we  cannot  hope  to  find  her  again?  " 

"  I  believe  not." 

"  We  must  give  it  up,  then.  But  your  man-servant? 
Old  Anthony  was  in  your  confidence.  Did  you  never 
tell  him  any  thing  about  it  ?  " 

"  Never.  Only  once  I  sent  for  him  to  come  to  Vine 
Street  when  I  had  sprained  my  foot  in  coming  down 
stairs." 

"  So  that  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  prove  that  the 
Countess  Claudieuse  ever  came  to  your  house  in  Passy  ? 
You  have  no  evidence  of  it,  and  no  eye-witness  ?  " 

"  I  used  to  have  evidence.  She  had  brought  a  num- 
ber of  small  articles  for  her  private  use ;  but  they  have 
disappeared  during  the  war." 

"  Ah,  yes  !  "  said  M.  Magloire,  "  always  the  war !  It 
has  to  answer  for  every  thing." 

Never  had  any  of  M.  Galpin's  examinations  been  half 
as  painful  to  Jacques  de  Boiscoran  as  this  series  of 
quick  questions,  which  betrayed  such  distressing  in- 
credulity. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you,  Magloire,"  he  resumed,  "  that 
the  countess  had  a  genius  for  prudence  ?  You  can  eas- 
ily conceal  yourself  when  you  can  spend  money  with- 
out counting  it.  Would  you  blame  me  for  not  having 
any  proofs  to  furnish  ?  Is  it  not  the  duty  of  every  man 


286     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

of  honor  to  do  all  he  can  to  keep  even  a  shadow  of 
suspicion  from  her  who  has  confided  herself  to  his 
hands  ?  I  have  done  my  duty,  and  whatever  may  come 
of  it,  I  shall  not  regret  it.  Could  I  foresee  such  un- 
heard-of emergencies?  Could  I  foresee  that  a  day 
might  come  when  I,  Jacques  de  Boiscoran,  should  have 
to  denounce  the  Countess  Claudieuse,  and  should  be 
compelled  to  look  for  evidence  and  witnesses  against 
her?" 

The  eminent  advocate  of  Sauveterre  looked  aside ; 
and,  instead  of  replying,  he  said  in  a  somewhat  changed 
voice, — 

"  Go  on,  Jacques,  go  on !  " 

Jacques  de  Boiscoran  tried  to  overcome  the  dis- 
couragement which  well-nigh  mastered  him,  and 
said, — 

"  It  was  on  the  2d  September,  1867,  that  the  Count- 
ess Claudieuse  for  the  first  time  entered  this  house  in 
Passy,  which  I  had  purchased  and  furnished  for  her; 
and  during  the  five  weeks  which  she  spent  in  Paris, 
she  came  almost  every  day,  and  spent  several  hours 
there. 

"  At  her  father's  house  she  enjoyed  absolute  and 
almost  uncontrolled  independence.  She  left  her  daugh- 
ter— for  she  had  at  that  time  but  one  child — with  her 
mother,  the  Marchioness  de  Tassar;  and  she  was  free 
to  go  and  to  come  as  she  liked. 

"  When  she  wanted  still  greater  freedom,  she  went 
to  see  her  friend  in  Fontainebleau ;  and  every  time  she 
did  this  she  secured  twenty-four  or  forty-eight  hours 
over  and  above  the  time  for  the  journey.  I,  for  my 
part,  was  as  perfectly  free  from  all  control.  Ostensi- 
bly, I  had  gone  to  Ireland :  in  reality,  I  lived  in  Vine 
Street. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     287 

"  These  five  weeks  passed  like  a  dream ;  and  yet  I 
must  confess,  the  parting  was  not  as  painful  as  might 
have  been  supposed.  Not  that  the  bright  prism  was 
broken;  but  I  always  felt  humiliated  by  the  necessity 
of  being  concealed.  I  began  to  be  tired  of  these  inces- 
sant precautions;  and  I  was  quite  ready  to  give  up 
being  Sir  Francis  Burnett,  and  to  resume  my  identity. 

"  We  had,  besides,  promised  each  other  never  to 
remain  a  month  without  seeing  each  other,  at  least  for 
a  few  hours ;  and  she  had  invented  a  number  of  expedi- 
ents by  which  we  could  meet  without  danger. 

"  A  family  misfortune  came  just  then  to  our  assist- 
ance. My  father's  eldest  brother,  that  kind  uncle  who 
had  furnished  me  the  means  to  purchase  my  house  in 
Passy,  died,  and  left  me  his  entire  fortune.  As  owner 
of  Boiscoran,  I  could,  henceforth,  live  as  much  as  I 
chose  in  the  province;  and  at  all  events  come  there 
whenever  I  liked,  without  anybody's  inquiring  for  my 
reasons." 


XIV. 

JACQUES  DE  BOISCORAN  was  evidently  anxious  to 
have  done  with  his  recital,  to  come  to  that  night  of  the 
fire  at  Valpinson,  and  to  learn  at  last  from  the  emi- 
nent advocate  of  Sauveterre  what  he  had  to  fear  or  to 
hope.  After  a  moment's  silence,  for  his  breath  was 
giving  out,  and  after  a  few  steps  across  his  cell,  he 
went  on  in  a  bitter  tone  of  voice, — 

"  But  why  trouble  you  with  all  these  details,  Ma- 
gloire?  Would  you  believe  me  any  more  than  you  do 
now,  if  I  were  to  enumerate  to  you  all  my  meetings 


288     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

with  the  Countess  Claudieuse,  or  if  I  were  to  repeat 
all  her  most  trifling  words? 

"  We  had  gradually  learnt  to  calculate  all  our  move- 
ments, and  made  our  preparations  so  accurately,  that 
we  met  constantly,  and  feared  no  danger.  We  said  to 
each  other  at  parting,  or  she  wrote  to  me,  '  On  such  a 
day,  at  such  an  hour,  at  such  a  place ; '  and  however 
distant  the  day,  or  the  hour,  or  the  place,  we  were  sure 
to  meet.  I  had  soon  learned  to  know  the  country  as 
well  as  the  cleverest  of  poachers ;  and  nothing  was  so 
useful  to  us  as  this  familiarity  with  all  the  unknown 
hiding-places.  The  countess,  on  her  side,  never  let 
three  months  pass  by  without  discovering  some  urgent 
motive  which  carried  her  to  Rochelle,  to  Angouleme,  or 
to  Paris ;  and  I  was  there  to  meet  her.  Nothing  kept 
her  from  these  excursions:  even  when  indisposed,  she 
braved  the  fatigues  of  the  journey.  It  is  true,  my  life 
was  well-nigh  spent  in  travelling ;  and  at  any  moment, 
when  least  expected,  I  disappeared  for  whole  weeks. 
This  will  explain  to  you  that  restlessness  at  which  my 
father  sneered,  and  for  which  you  yourself,  Magloire, 
used  to  blame  me." 

"  That  is  true,"  replied  the  latter.     "  I  remember." 

Jacques  de  Boiscoran  did  not  seem  to  notice  the  en- 
couragement. 

"  I  should  not  tell  the  truth  if  I  were  to  say  that 
this  kind  of  life  was  unpleasant  to  me.  Mystery  and 
danger  always  add  to  the  charms  of  love.  The  diffi- 
culties only  increased  my  passion.  I  saw  something 
sublime  in  this  success  with  which  two  superior  beings 
devoted  all  their  intelligence  and  cleverness  to  the  car- 
rying-on of  a  secret  intrigue.  The  more  fully  I  be- 
came aware  of  the  veneration  with  which  the  countess 
was  looked  up  to  by  the  whole  country,  the  more  I 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     289 

learned  to  appreciate  her  ability  in  dissembling  and  her 
profound  perversity;  and  I  was  all  the  more  proud  of 
her.  I  felt  this  pride  setting  my  cheeks  aglow  when  I 
saw  her  at  Brechy ;  for  I  came  there  every  Sunday  for 
her  sake  alone,  to  see  her  pass  calm  and  serene  in  the 
imposing  security  of  her  lofty  reputation.  I  laughed  at 
the  simplicity  of  all  these  honest,  good  people,  who 
bowed  so  low  to  her,  thinking  they  saluted  a  saint ;  and 
I  congratulated  myself  with  idiotic  delight  at  being  the 
only  one  who  knew  the  true  Countess  Claudieuse, — 
she  who  took  her  revenge  so  bravely  in  our  house  in 
Passy ! 

"  But  such  delights  never  last  long. 

"  It  had  not  taken  me  long  to  find  out  that  I  had 
given  myself  a  master,  and  the  most  imperious  and  ex- 
acting master  that  ever  lived.  I  had  almost  ceased  to 
belong  to  myself.  I  had  become  her  property;  and  I 
lived  and  breathed  and  thought  and  acted  for  her  alone. 
She  did  not  mind  my  tastes  and  my  dislikes.  She 
wished  a  thing,  and  that  was  enough.  She  wrote  to 
me,  '  Come ! '  and  I  had  to  be  instantly  on  the  spot : 
she  said  to  me,  '  Go ! '  and  I  had  to  leave  at  once.  At 
first  I  accepted  these  evidences  of  her  despotism  with 
joy;  but  gradually  I  became  tired  of  this  perpetual 
abdication  of  my  own  will.  I  disliked  to  have  no  con- 
trol over  myself,  to  be  unable  to  dispose  of  twenty- 
four  hours  in  advance.  I  began  to  feel  the  pressure 
of  the  halter  around  my  neck.  I  thought  of  flight. 
One  of  my  friends  was  to  set  out  on  a  voyage  around 
the  world,  which  was  to  last  eighteen  months  or  two 
years,  and  I  had  an  idea  of  accompanying  him.  There 
was  nothing  to  retain  me.  I  was,  by  fortune  and  posi- 
tion, perfectly  independent.  Why  should  I  not  carry 
out  my  plan? 


29o     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"Ah,  why?  The  prism  was  not  broken  yet.  I 
cursed  the  tyranny  of  the  countess ;  but  I  still  trembled 
when  I  heard  her  name  mentioned.  I  thought  of  es- 
caping from  her ;  but  a  single  glance  moved  me  to  the 
bottom  of  my  heart.  I  was  bound  to  her  by  the  thou- 
sand tender  threads  of  habit  and  of  complicity, — those 
threads  which  seem  to  be  more  delicate  than  gossamer, 
but  which  are  harder  to  break  than  a  ship's  cable. 

"  Still,  this  idea  which  had  occurred  to  me  brought 
it  about  that  I  uttered  for  the  first  time  the  word  '  sep- 
aration '  in  her  presence,  asking  her  what  she  would 
do  if  I  should  leave  her.  She  looked  at  me  with  a 
strange  air,  and  asked  me,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion,— 

"  '  Are  you  serious ?    Is  it  a  warning?  ' 

"  I  dared  not  carry  matters  any  farther,  and,  making 
an  effort  to  smile,  I  said, — 

"  '  It  is  only  a  joke/ 

" '  Then/  she  said,  '  let  us  not  say  any  thing  more 
about  it.  If  you  should  ever  come  to  that,  you  would 
soon  see  what  I  would  do.' 

"  I  did  not  insist ;  but  that  look  remained  long  in  my 
memory,  and  made  me  feel  that  I  was  far  more  closely 
bound  than  I  had  thought.  From  that  day  it  became 
my  fixed  idea  to  break  with  her." 

"  Well,  you  ought  to  have  made  an  end  of  it,"  said 
Magloire. 

Jacques  de  Boiscoran  shook  his  head. 

"  That  is  easily  said,"  he  replied.  "  I  tried  it ;  but 
I  could  not  do  it.  Ten  times  I  went  to  her,  determined 
to  say,  '  Let  us  part ; '  and  ten  times,  at  the  last  mo- 
ment, my  courage  failed  me.  She  irritated  me.  I  al- 
most began  to  hate  her;  but  I  could  not  forget  how 
much  I  had  loved  her,  and  how  much  she  had  risked 


WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     291 

for  my  sake.  Then — why  should  I  not  confess  it? — I 
was  afraid  of  her. 

"  This  inflexible  character,  which  I  had  so  much  ad- 
mired, terrified  me ;  and  I  shuddered,  seized  with  vague 
and  sombre  apprehensions,  when  I  thought  what  she 
was  capable  of  doing.  I  was  thus  in  the  utmost  per- 
plexity, when  my  mother  spoke  to  me  of  a  match  which 
she  had  long  hoped  for.  This  might  be  the  pretext 
which  I  had  so  far  failed  to  find.  At  all  events,  I  asked 
for  time  to  consider;  and,  the  first  time  I  saw  the 
countess  again,  I  gathered  all  my  courage,  and  said  to 
her, — 

"  *  Do  you  know  what  has  happened  ?  My  mother 
wants  me  to  marry/ 

"  She  turned  as  pale  as  death ;  and  looking  me  fix- 
edly in  the  eyes,  as  if  wanting  to  read  my  innermost 
thoughts,  she  asked, — 

"  '  And  you,  what  do  you  want?  ' 

"  '  I/  I  replied  with  a  forced  laugh, — '  I  want  noth- 
ing just  now.  But  the  thing  will  have  to  be  done 
sooner  or  later.  A  man  must  have  a  home,  affections 
which  the  world  acknowledges  ' — 

"  '  And  I,'  she  broke  in ;  '  what  am  I  to  you  ?  ' 

"  '  You/  I  exclaimed,  '  you,  Genevieve !  I  love  you 
with  all  the  strength  of  my  heart.  But  we  are  sep- 
arated by  a  gulf :  you  are  married/ 

"  She  was  still  looking  at  me  fixedly. 

" '  In  other  words/  she  said,  '  you  have  loved  me  as 
a  pastime.  I  have  been  the  amusement  of  your  youth, 
the  poetry  of  twenty  years,  that  love-romance  which 
every  man  wants  to  have.  But  you  are  becoming  seri- 
ous ;  you  want  sober  affections,  and  you  leave  me. 
Well,  be  it  so.  But  what  is  to  become  of  me  when  you 
are  married  ? ' 


292     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  I  was  suffering  terribly, 

"  '  You  have  your  husband,'  I  stammered,  '  your 
children ' — 

"  She  stopped  me. 

" '  Yes/  she  said.  '  I  shall  go  back  to  live  at  Val- 
pinson,  in  that  country  full  of  associations,  where  every 
place  recalls  a  rendezvous.  I  shall  live  with  my  hus- 
band, whom  I  have  betrayed;  with  daughters,  one  of 
whom- —  That  cannot  be,  Jacques.' 

I  had  a  fit  of  courage. 

"  '  Still/  I  said,  '  I  may  have  to  marry.  What  would 
you  do  ? ' 

"  '  Oh !  very  little/  she  replied.  '  I  should  hand  all 
your  letters  to  Count  Claudieuse.'  " 

During  the  thirty  years  which  he  had  spent  at  the 
bar,  M.  Magloire  had  heard  many  a  strange  confes- 
sion ;  but  never  in  his  life  had  all  his  ideas  been  over- 
thrown as  in  this  case. 

"  That  is  utterly  confounding,"  he  murmured. 

But  Jacques  went  on, — 

"  Was  this  threat  of  the  countess  meant  in  earnest? 
I  did  not  doubt  it;  but  affecting  great  composure,  I 
said, — 

"  '  You  would  not  do  that.' 

" '  By  all  that  I  hold  dear  and  sacred  in  this  world/ 
she  replied,  *  I  would  do  it.' 

"  Many  months  have  passed  by  since  that  scene,  Ma- 
gloire, many  events  have  happened ;  and  still  I  feel  as 
if  it  had  taken  place  yesterday.  I  see  the  countess  still, 
whiter  than-  a  ghost.  I  still  hear  her  trembling  voice ; 
and  I  can  repeat  to  you  her  words  almost  literally, — 

" '  Ah !  you  are  surprised  at  my  determination, 
Jacques.  I  understand  that.  Wives  who  have  be- 
trayed their  husbands  have  not  accustomed  their  lovers 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     293 

to  be  held  responsible  by  them.  When  they  are  be- 
trayed, they  dare  not  cry  out;  when  they  are  aban- 
doned, they  submit ;  when  they  are  sacrificed,  they  hide 
their  tears,  for  to  cry  would  be  to  avow  their  wrong. 
Who  would  pity  them,  besides?  Have  they  not  re- 
ceived their  well-known  punishment?  Hence  it  is 
that  all  men  agree,  and  there  are  some  of  them  cynical 
enough  to  confess  it,  that  a  married  woman  is  a  con- 
venient lady-love,  because  she  can  never  be  jealous, 
and  she  may  be  abandoned  at  any  time.  Ah !  we 
women  are  great  cowards.  If  we  had  more  courage, 
you  men  would  look  twice  before  you  would  dare  speak 
of  love  to  a  married  woman.  But  what  no  one  dares  I 
will  dare.  It  shall  not  be  said  that  in  our  common 
fault  there  are  two  parts,  and  that  you  shall  have  had 
all  the  benefit  of  it,  and  that  I  must  bear  all  the  punish- 
ment. What?  You  might  be  free  to-morrow  to  con- 
sole yourself  with  a  new  love ;  and  I — I  should  have  to 
sink  under  my  shame  and  remorse.  No,  no !  Such 
bonds  as  those  that  bind  us,  riveted  by  long  years  of 
complicity,  are  not  broken  so  easily. 

" '  You  belong  to  me ;  you  are  mine ;  and  I  shall  de- 
fend you  against  all  and  every  one,  with  such  arms  as 
I  possess.  I  told  you  that  I  valued  my  reputation  more 
than  my  life;  but  I  never  told  you  that  I  valued  life. 
On  the  eve  of  your  wedding-day,  my  husband  shall 
know  all.  I  shall  not  survive  the  loss  of  my  honor; 
but  at  least  I  shall  have  my  revenge.  If  you  escape  the 
hatred  of  Count  Claudieuse,  your  name  will  be  bound 
up  with  such  a  tragic  affair  that  your  life  will  be  ruined 
forever.' 

:'  That  was  the  way  she  spoke,  Magloire,  and  with  a 
passion  of  which  I  can  give  you  no  idea.  It  was  ab- 
surd, it  was  insane,  I  admit.  But  is  not  all  passion 


294 

absurd  and  insane?  Besides,  it  was  by  no  means  a 
sudden  inspiration  of  her  pride,  which  made  her 
threaten  me  with  such  vengeance.  The  precision  of 
her  phrases,  the  accuracy  of  her  words,  all  made  me 
feel  that  she  had  long  meditated  such  a  blow,  and  care- 
fully calculated  the  effect  of  every  word. 

"  I  was  thunderstruck. 

"  And  as  I  kept  silent  for  some  time,  she  asked  me 
coldly, — 

"'Well?' 

"  I  had  to  gain  time,  first  of  all. 

"  '  Well,'  I  said,  '  I  cannot  understand  your  passion. 
This  marriage  which  I  mentioned  has  never  existed  as 
yet,  except  in  my  mother's  imagination.' 

"  '  True? '  she  asked. 

"  '  I  assure  you.' 

"  She  examined  me  with  suspicious  eyes.  At  last 
she  said, — 

"  '  Well,  I  believe  you.  But  now  you  are  warned : 
let  us  think  no  more  of  such  horrors.' 

"  She  might  think  no  more  of  them,  but  I  could  not. 

"  I  left  her  with  fury  in  my  heart. 

"  She  had  evidently  settled  it  all.  I  had  for  lifetime 
this  halter  around  my  neck,  which  held  me  tighter 
day  by  day  and,  at  the  slightest  effort  to  free  myself, 
I  must  be  prepared  for  a  terrible  scandal;  for  one  of 
those  overwhelming  adventures  which  destroy  a  man's 
whole  life.  Could  I  ever  hope  to  make  her  listen  to 
reason  ?  No,  I  was  quite  sure  I  could  not. 

"  I  knew  but  too  well  that  I  should  lose  my  time, 
if  I  were  to  recall  to  her  that  I  was  not  quite  as  guilty 
as  she  would  make  me  out ;  if  I  were  to  show  her  that 
her  vengeance  would  fall  less  upon  myself  than  upon 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     295 

her  husband  and  her  children;  and  that,  although  she 
might  blame  the  count  for  the  conditions  of  their  mar- 
riage, her  daughters,  at  least,  were  innocent. 

"  I  looked  in  vain  for  an  opening  out  of  this  horrible 
difficulty.  Upon  my  honor,  Magloire,  there  were  mo- 
ments when  I  thought  I  would  pretend  getting  married, 
for  the  purpose  of  inducing  the  countess  to  act,  and 
of  bringing  upon  myself  these  threats  which  were 
hanging  over  me.  I  fear  no  danger ;  but  I  cannot  bear 
to  know  it  to  exist,  and  to  wait  for  it  with  folded 
hands :  I  must  go  forth  and  meet  it. 

"  The  thought  that  the  countess  should  use  her 
husband  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  me  bound  shocked 
me.  It  seemed  to  me  ridiculous  and  ignoble  that  she 
should  make  her  husband  the  guardian  of  her  lover. 
Did  she  think  I  was  afraid  of  her? 

"  In  the  meantime,  my  mother  had  asked  me  what 
was  the  result  of  my  reflections  on  the  subject  of  mar- 
riage; and  I  blushed  with  shame  as  I  told  her  that  I 
was  not  disposed  to  marry  as  yet,  as  I  felt  too  young 
to  accept  the  responsibility  of  a  family.  It  was  so ;  but, 
under  other  circumstances,  I  should  hardly  have  put 
in  that  plea.  I  was  thus  hesitating,  and  thinking  how 
and  when  I  should  be  able  to  make  an  end  of  it,  when 
the  war  broke  out.  I  felt  naturally  bound  to  offer  my 
services.  I  hastened  to  Boiscoran.  They  had  just  or- 
ganized the  volunteers  of  the  district;  and  they  made 
me  their  captain.  With  them  I  joined  the  army  of  the 
Loire.  In  my  state  of  mind,  war  had  nothing  fearful 
for  me :  every  excitement  was  welcome  that  made  me 
forget  the  past.  There  was,  consequently,  no  merit 
in  my  courage.  Nevertheless,  as  the  weeks  passed, 
and  then  the  months,  without  my  hearing  a  word  about 


296     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

the  Countess  Claudieuse,  I  began  secretly  to  hope  that 
she  had  forgotten  me ;  and  that,  time  and  absence  do- 
ing their  work,  she  was  giving  me  up. 

"  When  peace  was  made,  I  returned  to  Boiscoran ; 
and  the  countess  gave  no  more  signs  of  life  now  than 
before.  I  began  to  feel  reassured,  and  to  recover  pos- 
session of  myself,  when  one  day  M.  de  Chandore  in- 
vited me  to  dinner.  I  went.  I  saw  Miss  Dionysia. 

"  I  had  known  her  already  for  some  time ;  and  the 
recollection  of  her  had,  perhaps,  had  its  influence  upon 
my  desire  to  quit  the  countess.  Still  I  had  always  had 
self-control  enough  to  avoid  her,  lest  I  should  draw 
some  fatal  vengeance  upon  her.  When  I  was  brought 
in  contact  with  her  by  her  grandfather,  I  had  no  longer 
the  heart  to  avoid  her;  and,  on  the  day  on  which  I 
thought  I  read  in  her  eyes  that  she  loved  me,  I  made  up 
my  mind,  and  I  resolved  to  risk  every  thing. 

"  But  how  shall  I  tell  you  what  I  suffered,  Magloire, 
and  with  what  anxiety  I  asked  every  evening  when  I 
returned  to  Boiscoran, — 

"'  No  letter  yet?' 

"  None  came ;  and  still  it  was  impossible  that  the 
Countess  Claudieuse  should  not  have  heard  of  my 
marriage.  My  father  had  called  on  M.  de  Chandore, 
and  asked  him  for  the  hand  of  his  grand-daughter  for 
me.  I  had  been  publicly  acknowledged  as  her  be- 
trothed ;  and  nothing  was  now  to  be  done  but  to  fix  the 
wedding-day. 

"  This  silence  frightened  me." 

Exhausted  and  out  of  breath,  Jacques  de  Boiscoran 
paused  here,  pressing  both  of  his  hands  on  his  chest, 
as  if  to  check  the  irregular  beating  of  his  heart. 

He  was  approaching  the  catastrophe. 

And  yet  he  looked  in  vain  to  the  advocate  for  a  word 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     297 

or  a  sign  of  encouragement.  M.  Magloire  remained 
impenetrable:  his  face  remained  as  impassive  as  an 
iron  mask. 

At  last,  with  a  great  effort,  Jacques  resumed, — 

"  Yes,  this  calm  frightened  me  more  than  a  storm 
would  have  done.  To  win  Dionysia's  love  was  too 
great  happiness.  I  expected  a  catastrophe,  something 
terrible.  I  expected  it  with  such  absolute  certainty, 
that  I  had  actually  made  up  my  mind  to  confess  every 
thing  to  M.  de  Chandore.  You  know  him,  Magloire. 
The  old  gentleman  is  the  purest  and  brightest  type  of 
honor  itself.  I  could  intrust  my  secrets  to  him  with  as 
perfect  safety  as  I  formerly  intrusted  Genevieve's  name 
to  the  night  winds. 

"  Alas !  why  did  I  hesitate  ?  why  did  I  delay  ? 

"  One  word  might  have  saved  me ;  and  I  should  not 
be  here,  charged  with  an  atrocious  crime,  innocent,  and 
yet  condemned  to  see  how  you  doubt  the  truth  of  my 
words. 

"  But  fate  was  against  me. 

"  After  having  for  a  week  postponed  my  confession 
every  day  to  the  next,  one  evening,  after  Dionysia  and 
I  had  been  talking  of  presentiments,  I  said  to  myself, 
'  To-morrow  it  shall  be  done/ 

"  The  next  morning,  I  went  to  Boiscoran  much 
earlier  than  usual,  and  on  foot,  because  I  wanted  to 
give  some  orders  to  a  dozen  workmen  whom  I  em- 
ployed in  my  vineyards.  .1  took  a  short  cut  through 
the  fields.  Alas !  not  a  single  detail  has  escaped  from 
my  memory.  When  I  had  given  my  orders,  I  returned 
to  the  high  road,  and  there  met  the  priest  from  Brechy, 
who  is  a  friend  of  mine. 

"  '  You  must/  he  said,  '  keep  me  company  for  a  little 
distance.  As  you  are  on  your  way  to  Sauveterre,  it 


298     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

will  not  delay  you  much  to  take  the  cross-road  which 
passes  by  Valpinson  and  the  forest  of  Rochepommier.' 

"  On  what  trifles  our  fate  depends ! 

"  I  accompanied  the  priest,  and  only  left  him  at  the 
point  where  the  high-road  and  the  cross-road  intersect. 
As  soon  as  I  was  alone,  I  hastened  on;  and  I  was  al- 
most through  the  wood,  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  some 
twenty  yards  before  me,  I  saw  the  Countess  Claudieuse 
coming  towards  me.  In  spite  of  my  emotion,  I  kept  on 
my  way,  determined  to  bow  to  her,  but  to  pass  her 
without  speaking.  I  did  so,  and  had  gone  on  a  little 
distance,  when  I  heard  her  call  me, — 

"  '  Jacques ! ' 

"  I  stopped ;  or,  rather,  I  was  nailed  to  the  spot  by 
that  voice  which  for  a  long  time  had  held  such  entire 
control  over  my  heart.  She  came  up  to  me,  looking 
even  more  excited  than  I  was.  Her  lips  trembled,  and 
her  eyes  wandered  to  and  fro. 

"  '  Well,'  she  said,  '  it  is  no  longer  a  fancy :  this  time 
you  marry  Miss  Chandore/ 

"  The  time  for  half-measures  had  passed. 

"  '  Yes/  I  replied. 

" '  Then  it  is  really  true/  she  said  again.  '  It  is  all 
over  now.  I  suppose  it  would  be  in  vain  to  remind  you 
of  those  vows  of  eternal  love  which  you  used  to  repeat 
over  and  over  again.  Look  down  there  under  that  old 
oak.  They  are  the  same  trees,  this  is  the  same  land- 
scape, and  I  am  still  the  same  woman ;  but  your  heart 
has  changed/ 

"  I  made  no  reply. 

"  '  You  love  her  very  much,  do  you  ?  '  she  asked  me. 

"  I  kept  obstinately  silent. 

"  '  I  understand/  she  said,  '  I  understand  you  but  too 
well.  And  Dionysia?  She  loves  you  so  much  she 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     299 

cannot  keep  it  to  herself.  She  stops  her  friends  to  tell 
them  all  about  her  marriage,  and  to  assure  them  of 
her  happiness.  Oh,  yes,  indeed,  very  happy!  That 
love  which  was  my  disgrace  is  her  honor.  I  was 
forced  to  conceal  it  like  a  crime :  she  can  display  it  as  a 
virtue.  Social  forms  are,  after  all,  very  absurd  and  un- 
just ;  but  a  fool  is  he  who  tries  to  defy  them/ 

"  Tears,  the  very  first  tears  I  had  ever  seen  her 
shed,  glittered  in  her  long  silky  eyelashes. 

"  '  And  to  be  nothing  more  to  you, — nothing  at  all ! 
Ah,  I  was  too  cautious !  Do  you  recollect  the  morning 
after  your  uncle's  death,  when  you,  now  a  rich  man, 
proposed  that  we  should  flee?  I  refused;  I  clung  to 
my  reputation.  I  wanted  to  be  respected.  I  thought  it 
possible  to  divide  life  into  two  parts, — one  to  be  de- 
voted to  pleasure ;  the  other,  to  the  hypocrisy  of  duty. 
Poor  fool  that  I  was !  And  still  I  discovered  long  ago 
that  you  were  weary  of  me.  I  knew  you  so  well! 
Your  heart  was  like  an  open  book  to  me,  in  which  I 
read  your  most  secret  thoughts.  Then  I  might  have 
retained  you.  I  ought  to  have  been  humble,  obliging, 
submissive.  Instead  of  that,  I  tried  to  command. 

' '  And  you,'  she  said  after  a  short  pause, — '  are  you 
happy  ? ' 

" '  I  cannot  be  completely  happy  as  long  as  I  know 
that  you  are  unhappy.  But  there  is  no  sorrow  which 
time  does  not  heal.  You  will  forget ' — 

"  '  Never ! '  she  cried. 

"  And,  lowering  her  voice,  she  added, — 

"  '  Can  I  forget  you  ?  Alas !  my  crime  is  fearful ; 
but  the  punishment  is  still  more  so.' 

"  People  were  coming  down  the  road. 
' '  Compose  yourself,'  I  said. 

"  She  made  an  effort  to  control  her  emotion.     The 


300     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

people  passed  us,  saluting  politely.    And  after  a  mo- 
ment she  said  again, — 

"  '  Well,  and  when  is  the  wedding? ' 

"  I  trembled.  She  herself  insisted  upon  an  explana- 
tion. 

"  *  No  day  has  as  yet  been  fixed,'  I  replied.  '  Had 
I  not  to  see  you  first  ?  You  uttered  once  grave  threats.' 

"  '  And  you  were  afraid  ? ' 

'  No :  I  was  sure  I  knew  you  too  well  to  fear  that 
you  would  punish  me  for  having  loved  you,  as  if  that 
had  been  a  crime.  So  many  things  have  happened 
since  the  day  when  you  made  those  threats ! ' 

"  '  Yes,'  she  replied,  '  many  things  indeed !  My  poor 
father  is  incorrigible.  Once  more  he  has  committed 
himself  fearfully ;  and  once  more  my  husband  has  been 
.compelled  to  sacrifice  a  large  sum  to  save  him.  Ah, 
Count  Claudieuse  has  a  noble  heart ;  and  it  is  a  great 
pity  I  should  be  the  only  one  towards  whom  he  has 
failed  to  show  generosity.  Every  kindness  which  he 
shows  me  is  a  new  grievance  for  me ;  but,  having  ac- 
cepted them  all,  I  have  forfeited  the  right  to  strike  him, 
as  I  had  intended  to  do.  You  may  marry  Dionysia, 
Jacques :  you  have  nothing  to  fear  from  me.' 

"  Ah !  I  had  not  hoped  for  so  much,  Magloire.  Over- 
come with  joy,  I  seized  her  hand,  and  raising  it  to  my 
lips,  I  said, — 

'  You  are  the  kindest  of  friends.' 

"  But  promptly,  as  if  my  lips  had  burnt  her  hand, 
she  drew  it  back,  and  said,  turning  very  pale, — 

"  '  No,  don't  do  that ! ' 

"  Then,  overcoming  her  emotion  to  a  certain  degree, 
she  added, — 

"  '  But  we  must  meet  once  more.  You  have  my  let- 
ters, I  dare  say.' 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     301 

"  '  I  have  them  all.' 

"  '  Well,  you  must  bring  them  to  me.  But  where  ? 
and  how  ?  I  can  hardly  absent  myself  at  this  time.  My 
youngest  daughter — our  daughter,  Jacques — is  very 
ill.  Still,  an  end  must  be  made.  Let  us  see,  on  Thurs- 
day— are  you  free  then?  Yes.  Very  well,  then  come 
on  Thursday  evening,  towards  nine  o'clock,  to  Val- 
pinson.  You  will  find  me  at  the  edge  of  the  wood, 
near  the  towers  of  the  old  castle,  which  my  husband 
had  repaired.' 

"  '  Is  that  quite  prudent  ?  '  I  asked. 

"  '  Have  I  ever  left  any  thing  to  chance  ? '  she  re- 
plied, '  and  would  I  be  apt,  at  this  time,  to  be  impru- 
dent? Rely  upon  me.  Come,  we  must  part,  Jacques. 
Thursday,  and  be  punctual ! ' 

"  Was  I  really  free  ?  Was  the  chain  really  broken  ? 
and  had  I  become  once  more  my  own  master? 

"  I  thought  so,  and  in  my  almost  delirious  joy  I  for- 
gave the  countess  all  the  anxieties  of  the  last  year. 
What  do  I  say?  I  began  to  accuse  myself  of  injustice 
and  cruelty.  I  admired  her  for  sacrificing  herself  to 
my  happiness.  I  felt,  in  the  fulness  of  my  gratitude, 
like  kneeling  down,  and  kissing  the  hem  of  her  dress. 

"  It  had  become  useless  now  to  confide  my  secret  to 
M.  de  Chandore.  I  might  have  gone  back  to  Bois- 
coran.  But  I  was  more  than  half-way :  I  kept  on ;  and, 
when  I  reached  Sauveterre,  my  face  bore  such  evident 
traces  of  my  relief,  that  Dionysia  said  to  me, — 

: '  Something  very  pleasant  must  have  happened  to 
you,  Jacques.' 

"  Oh,  yes,  very  pleasant !  For  the  first  time,  I 
breathed  freely  as  I  sat  by  her  side.  I  could  love  her 
now,  without  fearing  that  my  love  might  be  fatal  to 
her. 


302     WITHIN    AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  This  security  did  not  last  long.  As  I  considered 
the  matter,  I  thought  it  very  singular  that  the  countess 
should  have  chosen  such  a  place  for  our  meeting. 

"  '  Can  it  be  a  trap  ? '  I  asked,  as  the  day  drew 
nearer. 

"  All  day  long  on  Thursday  I  had  the  most  painful 
presentiments.  If  I  had  known  how  to  let  the  countess 
know,  I  should  certainly  not  have  gone.  But  I  had  no 
means  to  send  her  word ;  and  I  knew  her  well  enough 
to  be  sure  that  breaking  my  word  would  expose  me  to 
her  full  vengeance.  I  dined  at  the  usual  hour;  and, 
when  I  had  finished,  I  went  up  to  my  room,  where  I 
wrote  to  Dionysia  not  to  expect  me  that  evening,  as 
I  should  be  detained  by  a  matter  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance. 

"  I  handed  this  note  to  Michael,  the  son  of  one  of  my 
tenants,  and  told  him  to  carry  it  to  town  without  los- 
ing a  minute.  Then  I  tied  up  all  of  the  countess's  let- 
ters in  a  parcel,  put  it  in  my  pocket,  took  my  gun,  and 
went  out.  It  might  have  been  eight  o'clock ;  but  it  was 
still  broad  daylight." 

Whether  M.  Magloire  accepted  every  thing  that  the 
prisoner  said  as  truth,  or  not,  he  was  evidently  deeply 
interested.  He  had  drawn  up  his  chair,  and  at  every 
statement  he  uttered  half-loud  exclamations. 

"  Under  any  other  circumstances,"  said  Jacques,  "  I 
should  have  taken  one  of  the  two  public  roads  in  going 
to  Valpinson.  But  troubled,  as  I  was,  by  vague  sus- 
picions, I  thought  only  of  concealing  myself,  and  cut 
across  the  marshes.  They  were  partly  overflowed ;  but 
I  counted  upon  my  intimate  familiarity  with  the 
ground,  and  my  agility.  I  thought,  moreover,  that  here 
I  should  certainly  not  be  seen,  and  should  meet  no  one. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     303 

In  this  I  was  mistaken.  When  I  reached  the  Seille 
Canal,  and  was  just  about  to  cross  it,  I  found  myself 
face  to  face  with  young  Ribot,  the  son  of  a  farmer  at 
Brechy.  He  looked  so  very  much  surprised  at  seeing 
me  in  such  a  place,  that  I  thought  I  ought  to  give  him 
some  explanation ;  and,  rendered  stupid  by  my  troubles, 
I  told  him  I  had  business  at  Brechy,  and  was  crossing 
the  marshes  to  shoot  some  birds. 

"  '  If  that  is  so,'  he  replied,  laughing,  '  we  are  not 
after  the  same  kind  of  game.' 

"  He  went  his  way ;  but  this  accident  annoyed  me 
seriously.  I  continued  on  my  way,  swearing,  I  fear,  at 
young  Ribot,  and  found  that  the  path  became  more 
and  more  dangerous.  It  was  long  past  nine  when  I 
reached  Valpinson  at  last.  But  the  night  was  clear, 
and  I  became  more  cautious  than  ever. 

"  The  place  which  the  countess  had  chosen  for  our 
meeting  was  about  two  hundred  yards  from  the  house 
and  the  farm  buildings,  sheltered  by  other  buildings, 
and  quite  close  to  the  wood.  I  approached  it  through 
this  wood. 

"  Hid  among  the  trees,  I  was  examining  the  ground, 
when  I  noticed  the  countess  standing  near  one  of  the 
old  towers :  she  wore  a  simple  costume  of  light  muslin, 
which  could  be  seen  at  a  distance.  Finding  every 
thing  quiet,  I  went  up  to  her ;  and,  as  soon  as  she  saw 
me,  she  said, — 

: '  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  nearly  an  hour.' 

"  I  explained  to  her  the  difficulties  I  had  met  with  on 
my  way  there ;  and  then  I  asked  her, — 

"  '  But  where  is  your  husband?  ' 

" '  He  is  laid  up  with  rheumatism,'  she  replied. 

"  *  Will  he  not  wonder  at  your  absence  ?  ' 


3o4     WITHIN    AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  '  No :  he  knows  I  am  sitting  up  with  my  youngest 
daughter.  I  left  the  house  through  the  little  door  of 
the  laundry/ 

"  And,  without  giving  me  time  to  reply,  she  asked, — 

"  '  Where  are  my  letters  ? ' 

"  '  Here  they  are/  I  said,  handing  them  to  her. 

"  She  took  them  with  feverish  haste,  saying  in  an 
undertone, — 

"  '  There  ought  to  be  twenty-four/ 

"  And,  without  thinking  of  the  insult,  she  went  to 
work  counting  them. 

"  '  They  are  all  here/  she  said  when  she  had  finished. 

"  Then,  drawing  a  little  package  from  her  bosom, 
she  added, — 

"  '  And  here  are  yours/ 

"  But  she  did  not  give  them  to  me. 

"  '  We'll  burn  them/  she  said. 

"  I  started  with  surprise. 

" '  You  cannot  think  of  it/  I  cried,  '  here,  and  at 
this  hour.  The  fire  would  certainly  be  seen/ 

"  '  What  ?  Are  you  afraid  ?  However,  we  can  go 
into  the  wood.  Come,  give  me  some  matches. 

"  I  felt  in  my  pockets ;  but  I  had  none. 

"  '  I  have  no  matches,'  I  said. 

"  '  Oh,  come ! — you  who  smoke  all  day  long, — you 
who,  even  in  my  presence,  could  never  give  up  your 
cigars/ 

"  '  I  left  my  match-box,  yesterday,  at  M.  de  Chan- 
dore's/ 

"  She  stamped  her  foot  vehemently. 

"  '  Since  that  is  so,  I'll  go  in  and  get  some/ 

"  This  would  have  delayed  us,  and  thus  would  have 
been  an  additional  imprudence.  I  saw  that  I  must  do 
what  she  wanted,  and  so  I  said, — 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     305 

"  '  That  is  not  necessary.     Wait ! ' 

"  All  sportsmen  know  that  there  is  a  way  to  replace 
matches.  I  employed  the  usual  means.  I  took  a  car- 
tridge out  of  my  gun,  emptied  it  of  its  shot,  and  put  in, 
instead  a  piece  of  paper.  Then,  resting  my  gun  on  the 
ground,  so  as  to  prevent  a  loud  explosion,  I  made  the 
powder  flash  up. 

"  We  had  fire,  and  put  the  letters  to  the  flame. 

"  A  few  minutes  later,  and  nothing  was  left  of  them 
but  a  few  blackened  fragments,  which  I  crumbled  in 
my  hands,  and  scattered  to  the  winds.  Immovable, 
like  a  statue,  the  Countess  Claudieuse  had  watched  my 
operations. 

"  '  And  that  is  all/  she  said,  '  that  remains  of  five 
years  of  our  life,  of  our  love,  and  of  your  vows, — 
ashes.' 

"  I  replied  by  a  commonplace  remark.  I  was  in  a 
hurry  to  be  gone. 

"  She  felt  this,  and  cried  with  great  vehemence, — 

"  '  Ah !  I  inspire  you  with  horror.' 

" '  We  have  just  committed  a  marvellous  impru- 
dence,' I  said. 

"  '  Ah !  what  does  it  matter?  ' 

"  Then,  in  a  hoarse  voice,  she  added, — 

"  '  Happiness  awaits  you,  and  a  new  life  full  of  in- 
toxicating hopes :  it  is  quite  natural  that  you  should 
tremble.  I,  whose  life  is  ended,  and  who  have  noth- 
ing to  look  for, — I,  in  whom  you  have  killed  every 
hope, — I  am  not  afraid.' 

"  I  saw  her  anger  rising  within  her,  and  said  very 
quietly, — 

: '  I   hope  you   do   not  repent   of  your  generosity, 
Genevieve.' 

"  '  Perhaps  I  do,'  she  replied,  in  an  accent  which 


3o6     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

made  me  tremble.  '  How  you  must  laugh  at  me ! 
What  a  wretched  thing  a  woman  is  who  is  abandoned, 
who  resigns,  and  sheds  tears ! ' 

"  Then  she  went  on  fiercely, — 

"  '  Confess  that  you  have  never  loved  me  really ! ' 
' '  Ah,  you  know  very  well  the  contrary ! ' 

"  '  Still  you  abandon  me  for  another, — for  that  Di- 
onysia ! ' 

"  '  You  are  married :  you  cannot  be  mine/ 

" '  Then  if  I  were  free — if  I  had  been  a  widow ' — 
'  You  would  be  my  wife  you  know  very  well.' 

"  She  raised  her  arms  to  heaven,  like  a  drowning 
person ;  and,  in  a  voice  which  I  thought  they  could  hear 
at  the  house,  she  cried, — 

" '  His  wife !  If  I  were  a  widow,  I  would  be  his 
wife!  O  God!  Luckily,  that  thought,  that  terrible 
thought,  never  occurred  to  me  before.' " 

All  of  a  sudden,  at  these  words,  the  eminent  advo- 
cate of  Sauveterre  rose  from  his  chair,  and,  placing 
himself  before  Jacques  de  Boiscoran,  he  asked,  look- 
ing at  him  with  one  of  those  glances  which  seem  to 
pierce  our  innermost  heart, — 

"  And  then  ?  " 

Jacques  had  to  summon  all  the  energy  that  was  left 
him  to  be  able  to  continue  with  a  semblance  of  calm- 
ness, at  least, — 

"  Then  I  tried  every  thing  in  the  world  to  quiet  the 
countess,  to  move  her,  and  bring  her  back  to  the  gen- 
erous feelings  of  former  days.  I  was  so  completely 
upset,  that  I  hardly  knew  what  I  was  saying.  I  hated 
her  bitterly,  and  still  I  could  not  help  pitying  her.  I 
am  a  man ;  and  there  is  no  man  living  who  would  not 
feel  deeply  moved  at  seeing  himself  the  object  of  such 
bitter  regrets  and  such  terrible  despair.  Besides,  my 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     307 

happiness  and  Dionysia's  honor  were  at  stake.  How 
do  I  know  what  I  said  ?  I  am  not  a  hero  of  romance. 
No  doubt  I  was  mean.  I  humbled  myself,  I  besought 
her,  I  told  falsehoods,  I  vowed  to  her  that  it  was  my 
family,  mainly,  who  made  me  marry.  I  hoped  I 
should  be  able,  by  great  kindness  and  caressing  words, 
to  soften  the  bitterness  of  the  parting.  She  listened 
to  me,  remaining  as  impassive  as  a  block  of  ice;  and, 
when  I  paused,  she  said  with  a  sinister  laugh, — 

"  '  And  you  tell  me  all  that !  Your  Dionysia !  Ah ! 
if  I  were  a  woman  like  other  women,  I  would  say 
nothing  to-day,  and,  before  the  year  was  over,  you 
would  again  be  at  my  feet.' 

"  She  must  have  been  thinking  of  our  meeting  at 
the  cross-roads.  Or  was  this  the  last  outburst  of  pas- 
sion at  the  moment  when  the  last  ties  were  broken  off  ? 
I  was  going  to  speak  again ;  but  she  interrupted  me 
bruskly,  saying, — 

"  '  Oh,  that  is  enough !  Spare  me,  at  least,  the  in- 
sult of  your  pity!  I'll  see.  I  promise  nothing. 
Good-by ! ' 

"  And  she  escaped  toward  the  house,  while  I  re- 
mained rooted  to  the  spot,  almost  stupefied,  and  ask- 
ing myself  if  she  was  not,  perhaps  at  that  moment, 
telling  Count  Claudieuse  everything.  It  was  at  that 
moment  that  I  drew  from  my  gun,  almost  mechani- 
cally, the  burnt  cartridge  and  put  in  a  fresh  one. 
Then,  as  nothing  stirred,  I  went  off  with  rapid  strides." 

"  What  time  was  it  ?  "  asked  M.  Magloire. 

"  I  could  not  tell  you  precisely.  My  state  of  mind 
was  such,  that  I  lost  all  idea  of  time.  I  went  back 
through  the  forest  of  Rochepommier." 

"  And  you  saw  nothing  ?  " 

"  No." 


3o8     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"Heard  nothing?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  Still,  from  your  statement,  you  could  not  have 
been  far  from  Valpinson  when  the  fire  broke  out." 

"  That  is  true,  and,  in  the  open  country,  I  should 
Certainly  have  seen  the  fire;  but  I  was  in  a  dense 
wood :  the  trees  cut  off  all  view." 

"And  these  same  trees  prevented  the  sound  of  the 
two  shots  fired  at  Count  Claudieuse  from  reaching 
your  ear  ?  " 

"  They  might  have  helped  to  prevent  it ;  but  there 
was  no  need  for  that.  I  was  walking  against  the 
wind,  which  was  very  high;  and  it  is  an  established 
fact,  that,  under  such  circumstances,  the  sound  of  a 
gun  is  not  heard  beyond  fifty  yards." 

M.  Magloire  once  more  could  hardly  restrain  his 
impatience ;  and,  utterly  unconscious  that  he  was  even 
harsher  than  the  magistrate,  he  said, — 

"  And  you  think  your  statement  explains  every 
thing?" 

"  I  believe  that  my  statement,  which  is  founded 
upon  the  most  exact  truth,  explains  the  charges 
brought  against  me  by  M.  Galpin.  It  explains  how  I 
tried  to  keep  my  visit  to  Valpinson  secret ;  how  I  was 
met  in  going  and  in  coming  back,  and  at  hours  which 
correspond  with  the  time  of  the  fire.  It  explains, 
finally,  how  I  came  at  first  to  deny.  It  explains  how 
one  of  my  cartridge-cases  was  found  near  the  ruins, 
and  why  I  had  to  wash  my  hands  when  I  reached 
home." 

Nothing  seemed  to  be  able  to  shake  the  lawyer's 
conviction.  He  asked, — 

"  And  the  day  after,  when  they  came  to  arrest  you, 
what  was  your  first  impression  ?  " 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     309 

"  I  thought  at  once  of  Valpinson." 

"  And  when  you  were  told  that  a  crime  had  been 
committed  ?  " 

"  I  said  to  myself,  '  The  countess  wants  to  be  a 
widow.' " 

All  of  M.  Magloire's  blood  seemed  to  rise  in  his 
face.  He  cried, — 

"  Unhappy  man !  How  can  you  dare  accuse  the 
Countess  Claudieuse  of  such  a  crime  ?  " 

Indignation  gave  Jacques  strength  to  reply, — 

"  Whom  else  should  I  accuse  ?  A  crime  has  been 
committed,  and  under  such  circumstances  that  it  can- 
not have  been  committed  by  any  one  except  by  her  or 
by  myself.  I  am  innocent :  consequently  she  is  guilty.'* 

"  Why  did  you  not  say  so  at  once  ?  " 

Jacques  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  replied  in  a 
tone  of  bitter  irony, — 

"  How  many  times,  and  in  how  many  ways,  do  you 
want  me  to  give  you  my  reasons?  I  kept  silent  the 
first  day,  because  I  did  not  then  know  the  circum- 
stances of  the  crime,  and  because  I  was  reluctant  to 
accuse  a  woman  who  had  given  me  her  love,  and  who- 
had  become  criminal  from  passion ;  because,  in  fine,  I 
did  not  think  at  that  time  that  I  was  in  danger.  After 
that,  I  kept  silent  because  I  hoped  justice  would  be  able 
to  discover  the  truth,  or  the  countess  would  be  unable 
to  bear  the  idea  that  I,  the  innocent  one,  should  be  ac- 
cused. Still  later,  when  I  saw  my  danger,  I  was  afraid." 

The  advocate's  feelings  seemed  to  be  revolted.  He 
broke  in, — 

"  You  do  not  tell  the  truth,  Jacques ;  and  I  will  tell 
you  why  you  kept  silent.  It  is  very  difficult  to  make 
up  a  story  which  is  to  account  for  every  thing.  But 
you  are  a  clever  man :  you  thought  it  over,  and  you 


3io     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

made  out  a  story.  There  is  nothing  lacking  in  it,  ex- 
cept probability.  You  might  tell  me  that  the  Count- 
ess Claudieuse  has  unfairly  enjoyed  the  reputation  of 
a  saint,  and  that  she  has  given  you  her  love;  perhaps 
I  might  be  willing  to  believe  it.  But  when  you  say 
she  has  set  her  own  house  on  fire,  and  taken  up  a  gun 
to  shoot  her  husband,  that  I  can  never,  never  admit." 

"  Still  it  is  the  truth." 

"  No ;  for  the  evidence  of  Count  Claudieuse  is  pre- 
cise. He  has  seen  his  murderer:  it  was  a  man  who 
fired  at  him." 

"  And  who  tells  you  that  Count  Claudieuse  does  not 
know  all,  and  wants  to  save  his  wife,  and  ruin  me? 
There  would  be  a  vengeance  for  him." 

The  objection  took  the  advocate  by  surprise;  but 
he  rejected  it  at  once,  and  said, — 

"  Ah !  be  silent,  or  prove." 

"All  the  letters  are  burned." 

"  When  one  has  been  a  woman's  lover  for  five  years, 
there  are  always  proofs." 

"  But  you  see  there  are  none." 

"Do  not  insist,"  repeated  M.  Magloire. 

And,  in  a  voice  full  of  pity  and  emotion,  he  added, — 

"  Unhappy  man !  Do  you  not  feel,  that,  in  order  to 
escape  from  one  crime,  you  are  committing  another 
which  is  a  thousand  times  worse  ?  " 

Jacques  stood  wringing  his  hand,  and  said, — 

"  It  is  enough  to  drive  me  mad." 

"  And  even  if  I,  your  friend,"  continued  M.  Ma- 
gloire, "  should  believe  you,  how  would  that  help  you  ? 
Would  any  one  else  believe  it?  Look  here,  I  will  tell 
you  exactly  what  I  think.  Even  if  I  were  perfectly 
sure  of  all  the  facts  you  mention,  I  should  never  plead 
them  in  my  defence,  unless  I  had  proofs.  To  plead 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     311 

them,  understand  me  well,  would  be  to  ruin  yourself 
inevitably." 

"  Still  they  must  be  pleaded ;  for  they  are  the  truth." 

"  Then,"  said  M.  Magloire,  "  you  must  look  for  an- 
other advocate." 

And  he  went  toward  the  door.  He  was  on  the  point 
of  leaving,  when  Jacques  cried  out,  almost  in  agony, — 

"  Great  God,  he  forsakes  me !  " 

"  No,"  replied  the  advocate ;  "  but  I  cannot  discuss 
matters  with  you  in  the  state  of  excitement  in  which 
you  now  are.  You  will  think  it  over,  and  I  will  come 
again  to-morrow." 

He  left;  and  Jacques  de  Boiscoran  fell,  utterly  un- 
done, on  one  of  the  prison  chairs. 

"  It  is  all  over,"  he  stammered :  "  I  am  lost." 


XV. 

DURING  all  this  time  they  were  suffering  intense 
anxiety  at  M.  de  Chandore's  house.  Ever  since  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning  the  two  aunts,  the  old  gentle- 
man, the  marchioness,  and  M.  Folgat  had  been  as- 
sembled in  the  sitting-room,  and  were  there  waiting 
for  the  result  of  the  interview.  Dionysia  had  only 
come  down  later;  and  her  grandfather  could  not  help 
noticing  that  she  had  dressed  more  carefully  than 
usual. 

"  Are  we  not  going  to  see  Jacques  again  ?  "  she  re- 
plied with  a  smile  full  of  confidence  and  joy. 

She  had  actually  persuaded  herself  that  one  word 
from  Jacques  would  suffice  to  convince  the  celebrated 
lawyer,  and  that  he  would  reappear  triumphant  on 
M.  Magloire's  arm.  The  others  did  not  share  these 


3i2     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

expectations.  The  two  aunts,  looking  as  yellow  as 
their  old  laces,  sat  immovable  in  a  corner.  The  mar- 
chioness was  trying  to  hide  her  tears ;  and  M.  Folgat 
endeavored  to  look  absorbed  in  a  volume  of  engrav- 
ings. M.  de  Chandore,  who  possessed  less  self-con- 
trol, walked  up  and  down  in  the  room,  repeating  every 
ten  minutes, — 

"  It  is  \vonderful  how  long  time  seems  when  you  are 
waiting !  " 

At  ten  o'clock  no  news  had  come. 

"Could  M.  Magloire  have  forgotten  his  promise?" 
said  Dionysia,  becoming  anxious. 

"  No,  he  has  not  forgotten  it,"  replied  a  newcomer, 
M.  Seneschal.  It  was  really  the  excellent  mayor, 
who  had  met  M.  Magloire  about  an  hour  before,  and 
who  now  came  to  hear  the  news,  for  his  own  sake, 
as  he  said,  but  especially  for  his  wife's  sake,  who  was 
actually  ill  with  anxiety. 

Eleven  o'clock,  and  no  news.  The  marchioness  got 
up,  and  said, —  , 

"  I  cannot  stand  this  uncertainty  a  minute  longer. 
I  am  going  to  the  prison." 

"  And  I  will  go  with  you,  dear  mother,"  declared 
Dionysia. 

But  such  a  proceeding  was  hardly  suitable.  M.  de 
Chandore  opposed  it,  and  was  supported  by  M.  Folgat, 
as  well  as  by  M.  Seneschal. 

"  We  might  at  least  send  somebody,"  suggested  the 
two  aunts  timidly. 

"  That  is  a  good  idea,"  replied  M.  de  Chandore. 

He  rang  the  bell;  and  old  Anthony  came  in.  He 
had  established  himself  the  evening  before  in  Sauve- 
terre,  having  heard  that  the  preliminary  investigation 
was  finished. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     313 

As  soon  as  he  had  been  told  what  they  wanted  him 
to  do,  he  said, — 

"  I  shall  be  back  in  half  an  hour." 

He  nearly  ran  down  the  steep  street,  hastened  along 
National  Street,  and  then  climbed  up  more  slowly 
Castle  Street.  When  M.  Blangin,  the  keeper,  saw 
him  appear,  he  turned  very  pale;  for  M.  Blangin  had 
not  slept  since  Dionysia  had  given  him  the  seventeen 
thousand  francs.  He,  once  upon  a  time  the  special 
friend  of  all  gendarmes,  now  trembled  when  one  of 
them  entered  the  jail.  Not  that  he  felt  any  remorse 
about  having  betrayed  his  duty ;  oh,  no !  but  he  feared 
discovery. 

More  than  ten  times  he  had  changed  the  hiding- 
place  of  his  precious  stocking ;  but,  wherever  he  put  it, 
he  always  fancied  that  the  eyes  of  his  visitors  were 
riveted  upon  that  very  spot.  He  recovered,  however, 
from  his  fright  when  Anthony  told  him  his  errand, 
and  replied  in  the  most  civil  manner, — 

"  M.  Magloire  came  here  at  nine  o'clock  precisely. 
I  took  him  immediately  to  M.  de  Boiscoran's  cell ;  and 
ever  since  they  have  been  talking,  talking." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  am.  Must  I  not  know  every  thing 
that  happens  in  my  jail?  I  went  and  listened.  You 
can  hear  nothing  from  the  passage :  they  have  shut 
the  wicket,  and  the  door  is  massive." 

"  That  is  strange,"  murmured  the  old  servant. 

"  Yes,  and  a  bad  sign,"  declared  the  keeper  with  a 
knowing  air.  "  I  have  noticed  that  the  prisoners  who 
take  so  long  to  state  their  case  to  their  advocate  always 
catch  the  maximum  of  punishment." 

Anthony,  of  course,  did  not  report  to  his  masters  the 
jailer's  mournful  anticipations ;  but  what  he  told  them 


3i4     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

about  the  length  of  the  interview  did  not  tend  to  re- 
lieve their  anxiety. 

Gradually  the  color  had  faded  from  Dionysia's 
cheeks;  and  the  clear  ring  of  her  voice  was  half 
drowned  in  tears,  when  she  said,  that  it  would  have 
been  better,  perhaps,  if  she  had  put  on  mourning,  and 
that  seeing  the  whole  family  assembled  thus  reminded 
her  of  a  funeral. 

The  sudden  arrival  of  Dr.  Seignebos  cut  short  her 
remarks.  He  was  in  a  great  passion,  as  usual;  and, 
as  soon  as  he  entered,  he  cried, — 

"  What  a  stupid  town  Sauveterre  is !  Nothing  but 
gossip  and  idle  reports!  The  people  are  all  of  them 
old  women.  I  feel  like  running  away,  and  hiding 
myself.  On  my  way  here,  twenty  curious  people  have 
stopped  me  to  ask  me  what  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  going 
to  do  now.  For  the  town  is  full  of  rumors.  They 
know  that  Magloire  is  at  the  jail  now ;  and  everybody 
wants  to  be  the  first  to  hear  Jacques's  story." 

He  had  put  his  immense  broad  brimmed  hat  on  the 
table,  and,  looking  around  the  room  at  all  the  sad 
faces  he  asked, — 

"  And  you  have  no  news  yet  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  replied  M.  Seneschal  and  M.  Folgat  in 
the  same  breath. 

"  And  we  are  frightened  by  this  delay,"  added 
Dionysia. 

"  And  why  ?  "  asked  the  physician. 

Then  taking  down  his  spectacles,  and  wiping  them 
diligently,  he  said, — 

"  Did  you  think,  my  dear  young  lady,  that  Jacques 
de  Boiscoran's  affair  could  be  settled  in  five  minutes? 
If  they  let  you  believe  that,  they  did  wrong.  I,  who 
despise  all  concealment,  I  will  tell  you  the  truth.  At 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE     315 

the  bottom  of  all  these  occurrences  at  Valpinson,  there 
lies,  I  am  perfectly  sure,  some  dark  intrigue.  Most 
assuredly  we  shall  put  Jacques  out  of  his  trouble ;  but 
I  fear  it  will  be  hard  work." 

"  M.  Magloire !  "  announced  old  Anthony. 

The  eminent  advocate  of  Sauveterre  entered.  He 
looked  so  undone,  and  bore  so  evidently  the  traces  of 
his  excitement,  that  all  had  the  same  terrible  thought 
which  Dionysia  expressed. 

"  Jacques  is  lost !  " 

M.  Magloire  did  not  say  no. 

"  I  believe  he  is  in  danger." 

"  Jacques,"  murmured  the  old  marchioness, — "  my 
son!" 

"  I  said  in  danger,"  repeated  the  advocate ;  "  but  I 
ought  to  have  said,  he  is  in  a  strange,  almost  incredi- 
ble, unnatural  position." 

"  Let  us  hear,"  said  the  marchioness. 

The  lawyer  was  evidently  very  much  embarrassed; 
and  he  looked  with  unmistakable  distress,  first  at 
Dionysia,  and  then  at  the  two  old  aunts.  But  nobody 
noticed  this,  and  so  he  said, — 

"  I  must  ask  to  be  left  alone  with  these  gentlemen." 

In  the  most  docile  manner  the  Misses  Lavarande 
rose,  and  took  their  niece  and  Jacques's  mother  with 
them :  the  latter  was  evidently  near  fainting.  As  soon 
as  the  door  was  shut,  Grandpapa  Chandore,  half  mad 
with  grief,  exclaimed, — 

"  Thanks,  M.  Magloire,  thanks  for  having  given 
me  time  to  prepare  my  poor  child  for  the  terrible  blow. 
I  see  but  too  well  what  you  are  going  to  say.  Jacques 
is  guilty." 

"  Stop,"  said  the  advocate :  "  I  have  said  nothing  of 
the  kind.  M.  de  Boiscoran  still  protests  energetically 


3i6     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

that  he  is  innocent ;  but  he  states  in  his  defence  a  fact 
which  is  so  entirely  improbable,  so  utterly  inadmissi- 
ble "— 

"  But  what  does  he  say  ?  "  asked  M.  Seneschal. 

"  He  says  that  the  Countess  Claudieuse  has  been  his 
mistress." 

Dr.  Seignebos  started,  and,  readjusting  his  specta- 
cles, he  cried  triumphantly, — 

"  I  said  so !     I  have  guessed  it !  " 

M.  Folgat  had,  on  this  occasion,  very  naturally,  no 
deliberative  voice.  He  came  from  Paris,  with  Paris 
ideas;  and,  whatever  he  might  have  been  told,  the 
name  of  the  Countess  Claudieuse  revealed  to  him 
nothing.  But,  from  the  effect  which  it  produced  upon 
the  others,  he  could  judge  what  Jacques's  accusation 
meant.  Far  from  being  of  the  doctor's  opinion,  M. 
de  Chandore  and  M.  Seneschal  both  seemed  to  be  as 
much  shocked  as  M.  Magloire. 

"  That  is  incredible,"  said  one. 

"  That  is  impossible,"  added  the  other. 

M.  Magloire  shook  his  head,  and  said, — 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  told  Jacques." 

But  the  doctor  was  not  the  man  to  be  surprised  at 
what  public  opinion  said,  much  less  to  fear  it.  He 
exclaimed, — 

"  Don't  you  hear  what  I  say  ?  Don't  you  under- 
stand me?  The  proof  that  the  thing  is  neither  so  in- 
credible nor  so  impossible  is,  that  I  had  suspected  it. 
And  there  were  signs  of  it,  I  should  think.  Why  on 
earth  should  a  man  like  Jacques,  young,  rich,  well 
made,  in  love  with  a  charming  girl,  and  beloved  by 
her,  why  should  he  amuse  himself  with  setting  houses 
on  fire,  and  killing  people?  You  tell  me  he  did  not 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     317 

like  Count  Claudieuse.  Upon  my  word!  If  every- 
body who  does  not  like  Dr.  Seignebos  were  to  come 
and  fire  at  him  forthwith,  do  you  know  my  body  would 
look  like  a  sieve!  Among  you  all,  M.  Folgat  is  the 
only  one  who  has  not  been  struck  with  blindness." 

The  young  lawyer  tried  modestly  to  protest. 

"  Sir  "— 

But  the  other  cut  him  short,  and  went  on, — 

"  Yes,  sir,  you  saw  it  all ;  and  the  proof  of  it  is, 
that  you  at  once  went  to  work  in  search  of  the  real 
motive,  the  heart, — in  fine,  the  woman  at  the  bottom 
of  the  riddle.  The  proof  of  it  is,  that  you  went  and 
asked  everybody, — Anthony,  M.  de  Chandore,  M. 
Seneschal,  and  myself, — if  M.  de  Boiscoran  had  not 
now,  or  had  not  had,  some  love-affair  in  the  country. 
They  all  said  No,  being  far  from  suspecting  the  truth. 
I  alone,  without  giving  you  a  positive  answer,  told  you 
that  I  thought  as  you  did,  and  told  you  so  in  M.  de 
Chandore's  presence." 

"  That  is  so !  "  replied  the  old  gentleman  and  M. 
Folgat. 

Dr.  Seignebos  was  triumphant.  Gesticulating,  and 
continually  handling  his  spectacles,  he  added, — 

"  You  see  I  have  learnt  to  mistrust  appearances ; 
and  hence  I  had  my  misgivings  from  the  beginning. 
I  watched  the  Countess  Claudieuse  the  night  of  the 
fire;  and  I  saw  that  she  looked  embarrassed,  troubled, 
suspicious.  I  wondered  at  her  readiness  to  yield  to 
M.  Galpin's  whim,  and  to  allow  Cocoleu  to  be  ex- 
amined ;  for  I  knew  that  she  was  the  only  one  who 
could  ever  make  that  so-called  idiot  talk.  You  see  I 
have  good  eyes,  gentlemen,  in  spite  of  my  spectacles. 
Well,  I  swear  by  all  I  hold  most  sacred,  on  my  Re- 


318     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

publican  faith,  I  am  ready  to  affirm  upon  oath,  that, 
when  Cocoleu  uttered  Jacques  de  Boiscoran's  name, 
the  countess  exhibited  no  sign  of  surprise." 

Never  before,  in  their  life,  had  the  mayor  of  Sau- 
veterre  and  Dr.  Seignebos  been  able  to  agree  on  any 
subject.  This  question  was  not  likely  to  produce  such 
an  effect  all  of  a  sudden :  hence  M.  Seneschal  said, — 

"  I  was  present  at  Cocoleu's  examination,  and  I  no- 
ticed, on  the  contrary,  the  amazement  of  the  countess." 

The  doctor  raised  his  shoulders,  and  said, — 

"  Certainly  she  said,  '  Ah ! '  But  that  is  no  proof. 
I,  also,  could  very  easily  say,  '  Ah! '  if  anybody  should 
come  and  tell  me  that  the  mayor  of  Sauveterre  was 
in  the  wrong;  and  still  I  should  not  be  surprised." 

"  Doctor !  "  said  M.  de  Chandore,  anxious  to  con- 
ciliate,— "  doctor !  " 

But  Dr.  Seignebos  had  already  turned  to  M.  Ma- 
gloire,  whom  he  was  anxious  to  convert,  and  went 
on, — 

"  Yes,  the  face  of  the  Countess  Claudieuse  ex- 
pressed amazement ;  but  her  eyes  spoke  of  bitter,  fierce 
hatred,  of  joy,  and  of  vengeance.  And  that  is  not  all. 
Will  you  please  tell  me,  Mr.  Mayor,  when  Count 
Claudieuse  was  roused  by  the  fire,  was  the  countess 
by  him  ?  No,  she  was  nursing  her  youngest  daughter, 
who  had  the  measles.  Hm!  what  do  you  think  of 
measles  which  make  sitting  up  at  night  necessary? 
And  when  the  two  shots  were  fired,  where  was  the 
countess  then?  Still  with  her  daughter,  and  on  the 
other  side  of  the  house  from  where  the  fire  was." 

The  mayor  of  Sauveterre  was  no  less  obstinate  than 
the  doctor.  He  at  once  objected, — 

"  I  beg  you  will  notice,  doctor,  that  Count  Claudie- 
use himself  deposed,  how,  when  he  ran  to  the  fire,  he 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     319 

found  the  door  shut  from  within,  just  as  he  had  left 
it  a  few  hours  before." 

Dr.  Seignebos  returned  a  most  ironical  bow,  and 
then  asked, — 

"  Is  there  really  only  one  door  in  the  chateau  at  Val- 
pinson  ?  " 

"  To  my  knowledge,"  said  M.  de  Chandore,  "  there 
are  at  least  three." 

"  And  I  must  say,"  added  M.  Magloire,  "  that,  ac- 
cording to  M.  de  Boiscoran's  statement,  the  countess, 
on  that  evening,  had  gone  out  by  the  laundry-door 
when  she  came  to  meet  him." 

"  What  did  I  say  ?  "  exclaimed  the  doctor. 

And,  wiping  his  glasses  in  a  perfect  rage,  he 
added, — 

"  And  the  children !  Does  Mr.  Mayor  think  it  nat- 
ural that  the  Countess  Claudieuse,  this  incomparable 
mother  in  his  estimation,  should  forget  her  children  in 
the  height  of  the  fire  ? " 

"  What !  The  poor  woman  is  called  out  by  the  dis- 
charge of  fire-arms ;  she  sees  her  house  on  fire ;  she 
stumbles  over  the  lifeless  body  of  her  husband :  and 
you  blame  her  for  not  having  preserved  all  her  pres- 
ence of  mind." 

"  That  is  one  view  of  it ;  but  it  is  not  the  one  I 
take.  I  rather  think  that  the  countess,  having  been 
delayed  out  of  doors,  was  prevented  by  the  fire  from 
getting  in  again.  I  think,  also,  that  Cocoleu  came 
very  opportunely ;  and  that  it  was  very  lucky  Provi- 
dence should  inspire  his  mind  with  that  sublime  idea 
of  saving  the  children  at  the  risk  of  his  life." 

This  time  M.  Seneschal  made  no  reply. 

"  Supported  by  all  these  facts,"  continued  the 
doctor,  "  my  suspicions  became  so  strong  that  I  de- 


32o     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

termined  to  ascertain  the  truth,  if  I  could.  The  next 
day  I  questioned  the  countess,  and,  I  must  confess, 
rather  treacherously.  Her  replies  and  her  looks  were 
not  such  as  to  modify  my  views.  When  I  asked  her, 
looking1  straight  into  her  eyes,  what  she  thought  of 
Cocoleu's  mental  condition,  she  nearly  fainted ;  and 
she  could  hardly  make  me  hear  her  when  she  said  that 
she  occasionally  caught  glimpses  of  intelligence  in 
him.  When  I  asked  her  if  Cocoleu  was  fond  of  her, 
she  said,  in  a  most  embarrassed  manner,  that  his  de- 
votion was  that  of  an  animal  which  is  grateful  for  the 
care  taken  of  him.  What  do  you  think  of  that,  gen- 
tlemen? To  me  it  appeared  that  Cocoleu  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  whole  affair;  that  he  knew  the  truth; 
and  that  I  should  be  able  to  save  Jacques,  if  I  could 
prove  Cocoleu's  imbecility  to  be  assumed,  and  his 
speechlessness  to  be  an  imposture.  And  I  would  have 
proved  it,  if  they  had  associated  with  me  any  one  else 
but  this  ass  and  this  jackanapes  from  Paris." 

He  paused  for  a  few  seconds ;  but,  without  giving- 
anybody  time  to  reply,  he  went  on, — 

"  Now,  let  us  go  back  to  our  point  of  departure, 
and  draw  our  conclusions.  Why  do  you  think  it  so 
improbable  and  impossible  that  the  Countess  Claudi- 
euse  should  have  betrayed  her  duties?  Because  she 
has  a  world-wide  reputation  for  purity  and  prudence. 
Well.  But  was  not  Jacques  de  Boiscoran's  reputa- 
tion as  a  man  of  honor  also  above  all  doubt?  Ac- 
cording to  your  views,  it  is  absurd  to  suspect  the 
countess  of  having  had  a  lover.  According  to  my 
notions,  it  is  absurd  that  Jacques  should,  overnight, 
have  became  a  scoundrel." 

"Oh!  that  is  not  the  same  thing,"  said  M. 
Seneschal. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     321 

"  Certainly  not !  "  replied  the  doctor ;  "  and  there 
you  are  right,  for  once.  If  M.  de  Boiscoran  had  com- 
mitted this  crime,  it  would  be  one  of  those  absurd 
crimes  which  are  revolting  to  us;  but,  if  committed 
by  the  countess,  it  is  only  the  catastrophe  prepared  by 
Count  Claudieuse  on  the  day  when  he  married  a 
woman  thirty  years  younger  than  he  was." 

The  great  wrath  of  Dr.  Seignebos  was  not  always 
as  formidable  as  it  looked.  Even  when  he  appeared 
to  be  almost  beside  himself,  he  never  said  more  than 
he  intended  to  say,  possessed  as  he  was  of  that  ad- 
mirable southern  quality,  which  enabled  him  to  pour 
forth  fire  and  flames,  and  to  remain  as  cold  as  ice 
within.  But  in  this  case  he  showed  what  he  thought 
fully.  He  had  said  quite  enough,  too,  and  had  pre- 
sented the  whole  affair  under  such  a  new  aspect,  that 
his  friends  became  very  thoughtful. 

"  You  would  have  converted  me,  doctor,"  said  M. 
Folgat,  "  if  I  had  not  been  of  your  opinion  before." 

"  I  am  sure,"  added  M.  de  Chandore,  after  hearing 
the  doctor,  "  the  thing  no  longer  looks  impossible." 

"  Nothing  is  impossible,"  said  M.  Seneschal,  like  a 
philosopher. 

The  eminent  advocate  of  Sauveterre  alone  remained 
unmoved. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  had  rather  admit  one  hour  of 
utter  insanity  even  than  five  years  of  such  monstrous 
hypocrisy.  Jacques  may  have  committed  the  crime, 
and  be  nothing  but  a  madman ;  but,  if  the  countess  is 
guilty,  one  might  despair  of  mankind,  and  renounce 
all  faith  in  this  world.  I  have  seen  her,  gentlemen, 
with  her  husband  and  her  children.  No  one  can  feign 
such  looks  of  tenderness  and  affection." 


322     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  He  will  never  give  her  up !  "  growled  Dr.  Seigne- 
bos, — 

And  touching  his  friend  on  the  shoulder, — for  M. 
Magloire  had  been  his  friend  for  many  years,  and  they 
were  quite  intimate, — he  said, — 

"  Ah !  There  I  recognize  my  friend,  the  strange 
lawyer,  who  judges  others  by  himself,  and  refuses  to 
believe  any  thing  bad.  Oh,  do  not  protest!  for  we 
love  and  honor  you  for  that  very  faith,  and  are  proud 
to  see  you  among  us  Republicans.  But  I  must  con- 
fess you  are  not  the  man  to  bring  light  into  such  a 
dark  intrigue.  At  twenty-eight  you  married  a  girl 
whom  you  loved  dearly :  you  lost  her,  and  ever  since 
you  have  remained  faithful  to  her  memory,  and  lived 
so  far  from  all  passions  that  you  no  longer  believe  in 
their  existence.  Happy  man!  Your  heart  is  still  at 
twenty ;  and  with  your  gray  hair  you  still  believe  in  the 
smiles  and  looks  of  woman." 

There  was  much  truth  in  this ;  but  there  are  certain 
truths  which  we  are  not  overfond  of  hearing. 

"  My  simplicity  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter," 
said  M.  Magloire.  "  I  affirm  and  maintain  that  a 
man  who  has  been  for  five  years  the  lover  of  a  woman 
must  have  some  proof  of  it." 

"  Well,  {here  you  are  mistaken,  master,"  said  the 
physician,  arranging  his  spectacles  with  an  air  of  self- 
conceit,  which,  under  other  circumstances,  would  have 
been  irresistibly  ludicrous. 

"  When  women  determine  to  be  prudent  and  sus- 
picious," remarked  M.  de  Chandorer  "they  never  are 
so  by  halves." 

"  It  is  evident,  besides,"  added  M.  Folgat,  "  that  the 
Countess  Claudieuse  would  never  have  determined 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     323 

upon  so  bold  a  crime,  if  she  had  not  been  quite  sure, 
that  after  the  burning  of  her  letters,  no  proof  could  be 
brought  against  her." 

"  That  is  it !  "  cried  the  doctor. 

M.  Magloire  did  not  conceal  his  impatience.  He  said 
dryly, — 

"  Unfortunately,  gentlemen,  it  does  not  depend  on 
you  to  acquit  or  condemn  M.  de  Boiscoran.  I  am  not 
here  to  convince  you,  or  to  be  convinced:  I  came  to 
discuss  with  M.  de  Boiscoran's  friends  our  line  of 
conduct,  and  the  basis  of  our  defence." 

And  M.  Magloire  was  evidently  right  in  this  esti- 
mate of  his  duty.  He  went  and  leaned  against  the 
mantelpiece;  and,  when  the  others  had  taken  their 
seats  around  him,  he  began, — 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  will  admit  the  allegations  made 
by  M.  de  Boiscoran.  He  is  innocent.  He  has  been 
the  lover  of  the  Countess  Claudieuse;  but  he  has  no 
proof.  This  being  granted,  what  is  to  be  done? 
Shall  I  advise  him  to  send  for  the  magistrate,  and  to 
confess  it  all?  " 

No  one  replied  at  first.  It  was  only  after  a  long 
silence  that  Dr.  Seignebos  said, — 

"  That  would  be  very  serious." 

"  Very  serious,  indeed,"  repeated  the  famous  law- 
yer. "  Our  own  feelings  give  us  the  measure  of  what 
M.  Galpin  will  think.  First  of  all,  he,  also,  will  ask 
for  proof,  the  evidence  of  a  witness,  any  thing,  in  fact. 
And,  when  Jacques  tells  him  that  he  has  nothing  to 
gire  but  his  word,  M.  Galpin  will  tell  him  that  he  does 
not  speak  the  truth." 

"  He  might,  perhaps,  consent  to  extend  the  investi- 
gation," said  M.  Seneschal.  "  He  might  possibly 
summon  the  countess." 


324     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

M.  Magloire  nodded,  and  said, — 

"  He  would  certainly  summon  her.  But,  then,  would 
she  confess?  It  would  be  madness  to  expect  that.  If 
she  is  guilty,  she  is  far  too  strong-minded  to  let  the 
truth  escape  her.  She  would  deny  every  thing,  haught- 
ily, magnificently,  and  in  such  a  manner  as  not  to 
leave  a  shadow  of  doubt." 

"  That  is  only  too  probable,"  growled  the  doctor. 
"  That  poor  Galpin  is  not  the  strongest  of  men." 

"  What  would  be  the  result  of  such  a  step  ?  "  asked 
M.  Magloire.  "  M.  de  Boiscoran's  case  would  be  a 
hundred  times  worse ;  for  to  his  crime  would  now  be 
added  the  odium  of  the  meanest,  vilest  calumny." 

M.  Folgat  was  following  with  the  utmost  attention. 
He  said, — 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  my  honorable  colleague 
give  utterance  to  that  opinion.  We  must  give  up 
all  hope  of  delaying  the  proceedings,  and  let  M.  de 
Boiscoran  go  into  court  at  once." 

M.  de  Chandore  raised  his  hands  to  heaven,  as  if 
in  sheer  despair. 

"  But  Dionysia  will  die  of  grief  and  shame,"  he 
exclaimed. 

M.  Magloire,  absorbed  in  his  own  views,  went  on, — 

"  Well,  here  we  are  now  before  the  court  at  Sauve- 
terre,  before  a  jury  composed  of  people  from  this  dis- 
trict, incapable  of  prevarication,  I  am  sure,  but,  un- 
fortunately, under  the  influence  of  that  public  opinion 
which  has  long  since  condemned  M.  de  Boiscoran. 
The  proceedings  begin ;  the  judge  questions  the  ac- 
cused. Will  he  say  what  he  told  me, — that,  after  hav- 
ing been  the  lover  of  the  Countess  Claudieuse,  he 
had  gone  to  Valpinson  to  carry  her  back  her  letters, 
and  to  get  his  own,  and  that  they  are  all  burnt?  Sup- 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE     325 

pose  he  says  so.  Immediately  there  will  arise  a  storm 
of  indignation;  and  he  will  be  overwhelmed  with 
curses  and  with  contempt.  Well,  thereupon,  the 
president  of  the  court  uses  his  discretionary  powers, 
suspends  the  trial,  and  sends  for  the  Countess  Clau- 
dieuse.  Since  we  look  upon  her  as  guilty,  we  must 
needs  endow  her  with  supernatural  energy.  She  has 
foreseen  what  is  coming,  and  has  read  over  her  part. 
When  summoned,  she  appears,  pale,  dressed  in  black; 
and  a  murmur  of  respectful  sympathy  greets  her  at 
her  entrance.  You  see  her  before  you,  don't  you? 
The  president  explains  to  her  why  she  has  been  sent 
for,  and  she  does  not  comprehend.  She  cannot  pos- 
sibly comprehend  such  an  abominable  calumny.  But 
when  she  has  comprehended  it?  Do  you  see  the  lofty 
look  by  which  she  crushes  Jacques,  and  the  grandeur 
with  which  she  replies,  '  When  this  man  had  failed  in 
trying  to  murder  my  husband,  he  tried  to  disgrace  his 
wife.  I  intrust  to  you  my  honor  as  a  mother  and  a 
wife,  gentlemen.  I  shall  not  answer  the  infamous 
charges  of  this  abject  calumniator/  " 

"  But  that  means  the  galleys  for  Jacques,"  ex- 
claimed M.  de  Chandore,  "  or  even  the  scaffold !  " 

"  That  would  be  the  maximum,  at  all  events,"  re- 
plied the  advocate  of  Sauveterre.  "  But  the  trial  goes 
on ;  the  prosecuting  attorney  demands  an  overwhelm- 
ing punishment;  and  at  last  the  prisoner's  council  is 
called  upon  to  speak.  Gentlemen,  you  were  impatient 
at  my  persistence.  I  do  not  credit,  I  confess,  the 
statement  made  by  M.  de  Boiscoran.  But  my  young 
colleague  here  does  credit  it.  Well,  let  him  tell  us 
candidly.  Would  he  dare  to  plead  this  statement,  and 
assert  that  the  Countess  Claudieuse  had  been  Jacques's 
mistress  ?  " 


326     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

M.  Folgat  looked  annoyed. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said  in  an  undertone. 

"  Well,  I  know  you  would  not,"  exclaimed  M.  Ma- 
gloire ;  "  and  you  would  be  right,  for  you  would  risk 
your  reputation  without  the  slightest  chance  of  saving 
Jacques.  Yes,  no  chance  whatever!  For  after  all, 
let  us  suppose,  what  can  hardly  be  even  supposed,  you 
should  prove  that  Jacques  has  told  the  truth,  that  he 
has  been  the  lover  of  the  countess.  What  would  hap- 
pen then  ?  They  arrest  the  countess.  Do  they  release 
M.  de  Boiscoran  on  that  account?  Certainly  not! 
They  keep  him  in  prison,  and  say  to  him,  '  This 
woman  has  attempted  her  husband's  life ;  but  she  has 
been  your  mistress,  and  you  are  her  accomplice.' 

"  That  is  the  situation,  gentlemen !  " 

M.  Magloire  had  stripped  it  of  all  unnecessary 
comments,  of  idle  conjectures,  and  all  sentimental 
phraseology,  and  placed  it  before  them  as  it  had  to  be 
looked  at,  in  all  its  fearful  simplicity. 

Grandpapa  Chandore  was  terrified.  He  rose,  and 
said  in  an  almost  inaudible  voice, — 

"  Ah,  all  is  over  indeed !  Innocent,  or  guilty, 
Jacques  de  Boiscoran  will  be  condemned." 

M.  Magloire  made  no  reply. 

"  And  that  is,"  continued  the  old  gentleman,  "  what 
you  call  justice !  " 

"  Alas !  "  sighed  M.  Seneschal,  "  it  is  useless  to  deny 
it :  trials  by  jury  are  a  lottery." 

M.  de  Chandore,  driven  nearly  to  madness  by  his 
despair,  interrupted  him, — 

"  In  other  words,  Jacques's  honor  and  life  depend 
at  this  hour  on  a  chance, — on  the  weather  on  the  day 
of  the  trial,  or  the  health  of  a  juror.  And  if  Jacques 
was  the  only  one!  But  there  is  Dionysia's  life,  gen- 


WITHIN    AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     327 

tlemen,  my  child's  life,  also  at  stake.  If  you  strike 
Jacques,  you  strike  Dionysia !  " 

M.  Folgat  could  hardly  restrain  a  tear.  M.  Senes- 
chal, and  even  the  doctor,  shuddered  at  such  grief  in 
an  old  man,  who  was  threatened  in  all  that  was  dear- 
est to  him, — in  his  one  great  love  upon  earth.  He 
had  taken  the  hand  of  the  great  advocate  of  Sauve- 
terre,  and,  pressing  it  convulsively,  he  went  on, — 

"  You  will  save  him,  Magloire,  won't  you  ?  What 
does  it  matter  whether  he  be  innocent  or  guilty,  since 
Dionysia  loves  him?  You  have  saved  so  many  in 
your  life!  It  is  well  known  the  judges  cannot  resist 
the  weight  of  your  words.  You  will  find  means  to 
save  a  poor,  unhappy  man  who  once  was  your  friend." 

The  eminent  lawyer  looked  cast-down,  as  if  he  had 
been  guilty  himself.  When  Dr.  Seignebos  saw  this, 
he  exclaimed, — 

"  What  do  you  mean,  friend  Magloire  ?  Are  you 
no  longer  the  man  whose  marvellous  eloquence  is  the 
pride  of  our  country  ?  Hold  your  head  up :  for  shame ! 
Never  was  a  nobler  cause  intrusted  to  you." 

But  he  shook  his  head,  and  murmured, — 

"  I  have  no  faith  in  it ;  and  I  cannot  plead  when  my 
conscience  does  not  furnish  the  arguments." 

And  becoming  more  and  more  embarrassed,  he 
added, — 

"  Seignebos  was  right  in  saying  just  now,  I  am  not 
the  man  for  such  a  cause.  Here  all  my  experience 
would  be  of  no  use.  It  will  be  better  to  intrust  it  to 
my  young  brother  here." 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  M.  Folgat  came  here 
upon  a  case  such  as  enables  a  man  to  rise  to  eminence, 
and  to  open  a  great  future  before  him.  For  the  first 
time,  he  came  upon  a  case  in  which  were  united  all 


328     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

the  elements  of  supreme  interest, — greatness  of  crime, 
eminence  of  victim,  character  of  the  accused,  mystery, 
variety,  of  opinions,  difficulty  of  defence,  and  uncer- 
tainty of  issue, — one  of  those  cases  for  which  an  ad- 
vocate is  filled  with  enthusiasm,  which  he  seizes  upon 
with  all  his  energies,  and  in  which  he  shares  all  the 
anxiety  and  all  the  hopes  with  his  client. 

He  would  readily  have  given  five  years'  income  to 
be  offered  the  management  of  this  case ;  but  he  was, 
above  all,  an  honest  man.  He  said,  therefore, — 

"  You  would  not  think  of  abandoning  M.  de  Bois- 
coran,  M.  Magloire  ?  " 

"  You  will  be  more  useful  to  him  than  I  can  be," 
was  the  reply. 

Perhaps  M.  Folgat  was  inwardly  of  the  same  opin- 
ion. Still  he  said, — 

"  You  have  not  considered  what  an  effect  this 
would  have." 

"Oh!" 

"  What  would  the  public  think  if  they  heard  all  of  a 
sudden  that  you  had  withdrawn  ?  '  This  affair  of  M. 
de  Boiscoran  must  be  a  very  bad  one  indeed,'  they 
would  say,  '  that  M.  Magloire  should  refuse  to  plead 
in  it.'  And  that  would  be  an  additional  burden  laid 
upon  the  unfortunate  man." 

The  doctor  gave  his  friend  no  time  to  reply. 

"  Magloire  is  not  at  liberty  to  withdraw,"  he  said ; 
"  but  he  has  the  right  to  associate  a  brother-lawyer 
with  himself.  He  must  remain  the  advocate  and 
counsel  of  M.  de  Boiscoran ;  but  M.  Folgat  can  lend 
him  the  assistance  of  his  advice,  the  support  of  his 
youth  and  his  activity,  and  even  of  his  eloquence." 

A  passing  blush  colored  the  cheeks  of  the  young 
lawyer. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     329 

"  I  am  entirely  at  M.  Magloire's  service,"  he  said. 

The  famous  advocate  of  Sauveterre  considered  a 
while.  After  a  few  moments  he  turned  to  his  young 
colleague,  and  asked  him, — 

"  Have  you  any  plan  ?  any  idea  ?  What  would  you 
do?" 

To  the  astonishment  of  all,  M.  Folgat  now  revealed 
his  true  character  to  some  extent.  He  looked  taller, 
his  face  brightened  up,  his  eyes  shone  brightly,  and 
he  said  in  a  full,  sonorous  voice, — a  voice  which  by  its 
metallic  ring  made  all  hearts  vibrate, — 

"  First  of  all,  I  should  go  and  see  M.  de  Boiscoran. 
He  alone  should  determine  my  final  decision.  But 
my  plan  is  formed  now.  I,  gentlemen,  I  have  faith, 
as  I  told  you  before.  The  man  whom  Miss  Dionysia 
loves  cannot  be  a  criminal.  What  would  I  do?  I 
would  prove  the  truth  of  M.  de  Boiscoran's  statement. 
Can  that  be  done  ?  I  hope  so.  He  tells  us  that  there 
are  no  proofs  nor  witnesses  of  his  intimacy  with  the 
Countess  Claudieuse.  I  am  sure  he  is  mistaken.  She 
has  shown,  he  says,  extraordinary  care  and  prudence. 
That  may  be.  But  mistrust  challenges  suspicion; 
and,  when  you  take  the  greatest  precautions,  you  are 
most  likely  to  be  watched.  You  want  to  hide,  and 
you  are  discovered.  You  see  nobody ;  but  they  see 
you. 

"  If  I  were  charged  with  the  defence,  I  should  com- 
mence to-morrow  a  counter-investigation.  We  have 
money,  the  Marquis  de  Boiscoran  has  influential  con- 
nections ;  and  we  should  have  help  everywhere.  Be- 
fore forty-eight  hours  are  gone,  I  should  have  experi- 
enced agents  at  work.  I  know  Vine  Street  in  Passy: 
it  is  a  lonely  street ;  but  it  has  eyes,  as  all  streets  have. 
Why  should  not  some  of  these  eyes  have  noticed  the 


330     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

mysterious  visits  of  the  countess?  My  agents  would 
inquire  from  house  to  house.  Nor  would  it  be  neces- 
sary to  mention  names.  They  would  not  be  charged 
with  a  search  after  the  Countess  Claudieuse,  but  after 
an  unknown  lady,  dressed  so  and  so ;  and,  if  they 
should  discover  any  one  who  had  seen  her,  and  who 
could  identify  her,  that  man  would  be  our  first  wit- 
ness. 

"  In  the  meantime,  I  should  go  in  search  of  this 
friend  of  M.  de  Boiscoran's,  this  Englishman,  whose 
name  he  assumed;  and  the  London  police  would  aid 
me  in  my  efforts.  If  that  Englishman  is  dead,  we 
would  hear  of  it,  and  it  would  be  a  misfortune.  If 
he  is  only  at  the  other  end  of  the  world,  the  transat- 
lantic cable  enables  us  to  question  him,  and  to  be  an- 
swered in  a  week. 

"  I  should,  at  the  same  time,  have  sent  detectives 
after  that  English  maid-servant  who  attended  to  the 
house  in  Vine  Street.  M.  de  Boiscoran  declares  that 
she  has  never  even  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  countess. 
I  do  not  believe  it.  It  is  out  of  question  that  a  ser- 
vant should  not  wish  for  the  means,  and  find  them,  of 
seeing  the  face  of  the  woman  who  comes  to  see  her 
master. 

"  And  that  is  not  all.  There  were  other  people  who 
came  to  the  house  in  Vine  Street.  I  should  examine 
them  one  by  one, — the  gardener  and  his  help,  the 
water-carrier,  the  upholsterer,  the  errand-boys  of  all 
the  merchants.  Who  can  say  whether  one  of  them  is 
not  in  possession  of  this  truth  which  we  are  seeking? 

"  Finally,  when  a  woman  has  spent  so  many  days 
in  a  house,  it  is  almost  impossible  that  she  should  not 
have  left  some  traces  of  her  passage  behind  her.  Since 
then,  you  will  say,  there  has  been  the  war,  and  then 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     331 

the  commune.  Nevertheless,  I  should  examine  the 
ruins,  every  tree  in  the  garden,  every  pane  in  the 
windows :  I  should  compel  the  very  mirrors  that  have 
escaped  destruction  to  give  me  back  the  image  which 
they  have  so  often  reflected." 

"  Ah,  I  call  that  speaking !  "  cried  the  doctor,  full  of 
enthusiasm. 

The  others  trembled  with  excitement.  They  felt, 
that  the  struggle  was  commencing.  But,  unmindful 
of  the  impression  he  had  produced,  M.  Folgat  went 
on, — 

"  Here  in  Sauveterre,  the  task  would  be  more  diffi- 
cult; but,  in  case  of  success,  the  result,  also,  would 
be  more  decided.  I  should  bring  down  from  Paris 
one  of  those  keen,  subtle  detectives  who  have  made 
an  art  of  their  profession,  and  I  should  know  how  to 
stimulate  his  vanity.  He,  of  course,  would  have  to 
know  every  thing,  even  the  names ;  but  there  would 
be  no  danger  in  that.  His  desire  to  succeed,  the 
splendor  of  the  reward,  even  his  professional  habits,, 
would  be  our  security.  He  would  come  down  secretly, 
concealed  under  whatever  disguise  would  appear  to 
him  most  useful  for  his  purpose ;  and  he  would  begin 
once  more,  for  the  benefit  of  the  defence,  the  investiga- 
tion carried  on  by  M.  Galpin  for  the  benefit  of  the 
prosecution.  Would  he  find  out  any  thing?  We  can 
but  hope  so.  I  know  detectives,  who,  by  the  aid  of 
smaller  material,  have  unravelled  far  deeper  myste- 
ries." 

Grandpapa  Chandore,  excellent  M.  Seneschal,  Dr. 
Seignebos,  and  even  M.  Magloire,  were  literally  drink- 
ing in  the  words  of  the  Paris  lawyer. 

"  Is  that  all,  gentlemen  ?  "  he  continued.  "  By  no 
means !  Thanks  to  his  great  experience,  Dr.  Seignebos 


332     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

had,  on  the  very  first  day,  instinctively  guessed  who 
was  the  most  important  personage  of  this  mysterious 
drama." 

"Cocoleu!" 

"  Exactly,  Cocoleu.  Whether  he  be  actor,  confi- 
dant, or  eye-witness,  Cocoleu  has  evidently  the  key  to 
this  mystery.  This  key  we  must  make  every  effort 
to  obtain  from  him.  Medical  experts  have  just  de- 
clared him  idiotic;  nevertheless,  we  protest.  We 
claim  that  the  imbecility  of  this  wretch  is  partly  as- 
sumed. We  maintain  that  his  obstinate  silence  is  a 
vile  imposture.  What !  he  should  have  intelligence 
enough  to  testify  against  us,  and  yet  not  have  left 
enough  of  it  now  to  explain,  or  even  to  repeat  his  evi- 
dence? That  is  inadmissible.  We  maintain  that  he 
keeps  silent  now  just  as  he  spoke  that  night, — by 
order.  If  his  silence  was  less  profitable  for  the  prose- 
cution, they  would  soon  find  means  to  break  it.  We 
demand  that  such  means  should  be  employed.  We 
demand  that  the  person  who  has  before  been  able  to 
loosen  his  tongue  should  be  sent  for,  and  ordered  to 
try  the  experiment  over  again.  We  call  for  a  new 
examination  by  experts :  we  cannot  judge  all  of  a  sud- 
den, and  in  forty-eight  hours,  what  is  the  true  mental 
condition  of  a  man,  especially  when  that  man  is  sus- 
pected of  being  an  impostor.  And  we  require,  above 
all,  that  these  new  experts  should  be  qualified  by 
knowledge  and  experience." 

Dr.  Seignebos  was  quivering  with  excitement.  He 
heard  all  his  own  ideas  repeated  in  a  concise,  ener- 
getic manner. 

"Yes,"  he  cried,  "that  is  the  way  to  do  it!  Let 
me  have  full  power,  and  in  less  than  a  fortnight  Coco- 
leu is  unmasked." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     333 

Less  expansive,  the  eminent  advocate  of  Sauveterre 
simply  shook  hands  with  M.  Folgat,  and  said, — 

"  You  see,  M.  de  Boiscoran's  case  ought  to  be  put  in 
your  hands." 

The  young  lawyer  made  no  effort  to  protest.  When 
he  began  to  speak,  his  determination  was  already 
formed. 

"  Whatever  can  humanly  be  done,"  he  replied,  "  I 
will  do.  If  I  accept  the  task,  I  shall  devote  myself 
body  and  soul  to  it.  But  I  insist  upon  it,  it  is  under- 
stood, and  must  be  publicly  announced,  that  M.  Ma- 
gloire  does  not  withdraw  from  the  case,  and  that  I  act 
only  as  his  junior." 

"  Agreed,"  said  the  old  advocate. 

"  Well.  When  shall  we  go  and  see  M.  de  Bois- 
coran  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  morning." 

"  I  can,  of  course,  take  no  steps  till  I  have  seen  him." 

"  Yes ;  but  you  cannot  be  admitted,  except  by  a 
special  permission  from  M.  Galpin ;  and  I  doubt  if  we 
can  procure  that  to-day." 

"  That  is  provoking." 

"  No,  since  we  have  our  work  all  cut  out  for  to-day. 
We  have  to  go  over  all  the  papers  of  the  proceedings, 
which  the  magistrate  has  placed  in  my  hands." 

Dr.  Seignebos  was  boiling  over  with  impatience.  He 
broke  in, — 

"  Oh,  what  words !  Go  to  work,  Mr.  Advocate,  to 
work,  I  say.  Come,  shall  we  go  ?  " 

They  were  leaving  the  room  when  M.  de  Chandore 
called  them  back  by  a  gesture.  He  said, — 

"  So  far,  gentlemen,  we  have  thought  of  Jacques 
alone.  And  Dionysia  ?  " 

The  others  looked  at  him,  full  of  surprise. 


334     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

"  What  am  I  to  say  if  she  asks  me  what  the  result  of 
M.  Magloire's  interview  with  Jacques  has  been,  and 
why  you  would  say  nothing  in  her  presence  ?  " 

Dr.  Seignebos  had  confessed  it  more  than  once:  he 
was  no  friend  of  concealment. 

"  You  will  tell  her  the  truth,"  was  his  advice. 

"What?  How  can  I. tell  her  that  Jacques  has  been 
the  lover  of  the  Countess  Claudieuse  ?  " 

"  She  will  hear  of  it  sooner  or  later.  Miss  Dionysia 
is  a  sensible,  energetic  girl." 

"  Yes ;  but  Miss  Dionysia  is  as  ignorant  as  a  holy 
angel,"  broke  in  M.  Folgat  eagerly,  "  and  she  loves  M. 
-de  Boiscoran.  Why  should  we  trouble  the  purity  of 
her  thoughts  and  her  happiness?  Is  she  not  unhappy 
enough?  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  no  longer  kept  in  close 
confinement.  He  will  see  his  betrothed,  and,  if  he 
thinks  proper,  he  can  tell  her.  He  alone  has  the  right 
to  do  so.  I  shall,  however,  dissuade  him.  From  what 
I  know  of  Miss  Chandore's  character,  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  her  to  control  herself,  if  she  should  meet 
the  Countess  Claudieuse." 

"  M.  de  Chandore  ought  not  to  say  any  thing,"  said 
M.  Magloire  decisively.  "  It  is  too  much  already,  to 
have  to  intrust  the  marchioness  with  the  secret;  for 
you  must  not  forget,  gentlemen,  that  the  slightest  in- 
discretion would  certainly  ruin  all  of  M.  Folgat's  deli- 
cate plans." 

Thereupon  all  went  out;  and  M.  de  Chandore,  left 
alone,  said  to  himself, — 

"  Yes,  they  are  right ;  but  what  am  I  to  say  ?  " 

He  was  thinking  it  over  almost  painfully,  when  a 
maid  came  in,  and  told  him  that  Miss  Dionysia  wanted 
to  see  him. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     335 

"  I  am  coming,"  he  said. 

And  he  followed  her  with  heavy  steps,  and  trying  to 
compose  his  features  so  as  to  efface  all  traces  of  the 
terrible  emotions  through  which  he  had  passed.  The 
two  aunts  had  taken  Dionysia  and  the  marchioness  to 
the  parlor  in  the  upper  story.  Here  M.  de  Chandore 
found  them  all  assembled, — the  marchioness,  pale  and 
overcome,  extended  in  an  easy-chair;  but  Dionysia, 
walking  up  and  down  with  burning  cheeks  and  blazing 
eyes.  As  soon  as  he  entered,  she  asked  him  in  a  sharp, 
sad  voice, — 

"  Well  ?    There  is  no  hope,  I  suppose." 

"  More  hope  than  ever,  on  the  contrary,"  he  replied, 
trying  to  smile. 

"  Then  why  did  M.  de  Magloire  send  us  all  out?  " 

The  old  gentleman  had  had  time  to  prepare  a  fib. 

"  Because  M.  Magloire  had  to  tell  us  a  piece  of  bad 
news.  There  is  no  chance  of  no  true  bill  being  found. 
Jacques  will  have  to  appear  in  court." 

The  marchioness  jumped  up  like  a  piece  of  mechan- 
ism, and  cried, — 

"  What!  Jacques  before  the  assizes?  My  son?  A 
Boiscoran  ?  "  And  she  fell  back  into  her  chair.  Not  a 
muscle  in  Dionysia's  face  had  moved.  She  said  in  a 
strange  tone  of  voice, — 

"  I  was  prepared  for  something  worse.  One  may 
avoid  the  court." 

With  these  words  she  left  the  room,  shutting  the 
door  so  violently,  that  both  the  Misses  Lavarande  has- 
tened after  her.  Now  M.  de  Chandore  thought  he 
might  speak  freely.  He  stood  up  before  the  mar- 
chioness, and  gave  vent  to  that  fearful  wrath  which 
had  been  rising  within  him  for  a  long  time. 


336     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE 

"Your  son,"  he  cried,  "your  Jacques,  I  wish  he 
were  dead  a  thousand  times !  the  wretch  who  is  killing 
my  child ;  for  you  see  he  is  killing  her." 

And,  without  pity,  he  told  her  the  whole  story  of 
Jacques  and  the  Countess  Claudieuse.  The  marchio- 
ness was  overcome.  She  had  even  ceased  to  sob,  and 
had  not  strength  enough  left  to  ask  him  to  have  pity  on 
her.  And,  when  he  had  ended,  she  whispered  to  herself 
with  an  expression  of  unspeakable  suffering, — 

"  Adultery !    Oh,  my  God !  what  punishment !  " 


XVI. 

M.  FOLGAT  and  M.  Magloire  went  to  the  court- 
house ;  and,  as  they  descended  the  steep  street  from  M. 
de  Chandore's  house,  the  Paris  lawyer  said, — 

"  M.  Galpin  must  fancy  himself  wonderfully  safe  in 
his  position,  that  he  should  grant  the  defence  permis- 
sion to  see  all  the  papers  of  the  prosecution." 

Ordinarily  such  leave  is  given  only  after  the  court 
has  begun  proceedings  against  the  accused,  and  the 
presiding  judge  has  questioned  him.  This  looks  like 
crying  injustice  to  the  prisoner;  and  hence  arrange- 
ments can  be  made  by  which  the  rigor  of  the  law  is 
somewhat  mitigated.  With  the  consent  of  the  com- 
monwealth attorney,  and  upon  his  responsibility,  the 
magistrate  who  has  carried  on  the  preliminary  investi- 
gation may  inform  the  accused,  or  his  counsel,  by  word 
of  mouth,  or  by  a  copy  of  all  or  of  part,  of  what  has 
happened  during  the  first  inquiry.  This  is  what  M. 
Galpin  had  done. 

And  on  the  part  of  a  man  who  was  ever  ready  to  in- 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE     337 

terpret  the  law  in  its  strictest  meaning,  and  who  no 
more  dared  proceed  without  authority  for  every  step 
than  a  blind  man  without  his  staff, — on  the  part  of  such 
a  man,  an  enemy,  too,  of  M.  de  Boiscoran,  this  permis- 
sion granted  to  the  defence  was  full  of  meaning,  But 
did  it  really  mean  what  M.  Folgat  thought  it  did  ? 

"  I  am  almost  sure  you  are  mistaken,"  said  M.  Ma- 
gloire.  "  I  know  the  good  man,  having  practised  with 
him  for  many  years.  If  he  were  sure  of  himself,  he 
would  be  pitiless.  If  he  is  kind,  he  is  afraid.  This  con- 
cession is  a  door  which  he  keeps  open,  in  case  of  de- 
feat." 

The  eminent  counsel  was  right.  However  well  con- 
vinced M.  Galpin  might  be  of  Jacques's  guilt,  he  was 
still  very  much  troubled  about  his  means  of  defence. 
Twenty  examinations  had  elicited  nothing  from  his 
prisoner  but  protestations  of  innocence.  When  he  was 
driven  to  the  wall,  he  would  reply, — 

"  I  shall  explain  when  I  have  seen  my  counsel." 

This  is  often  the  reply  of  the  most  stupid  scamp,  who 
only  wants  to  gain  time.  But  M.  Galpin  knew  his 
former  friend,  and  had  too  high  an  opinion  of  his  mind, 
not  to  fear  that  there  was  something  serious  beneath  his 
obstinate  silence. 

What  was  it?  A  clever  falsehood?  a  cunningly- 
devised  alibi  f  or  witnesses  bribed  long  beforehand? 

M.  Galpin  would  have  given  much  to  know.  And  it 
was  for  the  purpose  of  finding  it  out  sooner,  that  he 
had  given  this  permission.  Before  he  granted  it,  how- 
ever, he  had  conferred  with  the  commonwealth  attor- 
ney. Excellent  M.  Daubigeon,  whom  he  found,  as 
usual,  admiring  the  beautiful  gilt  edging  of  his  be- 
loved books,  had  treated  him  badly. 

"  Do  you  come  for  any  more  signatures  ?  "  he  had  ex- 


338     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE 

claimed.     "You  shall  have  them.     If  you  want  any 
thing  else,  your  servant 

'When  the  blunder  is  made, 
It  is  too  late,  I  tell  thee,  to  come  for  advice.' " 

However  discouraging  such  a  welcome  might  be, 
M.  Galpin  did  not  give  up  his  purpose.  He  said  in  his 
bitterest  tone, — 

"  You  still  insist  that  it  is  a  blunder  to  do  one's  duty. 
Has  not  a  crime  been  committed?  Is  it  not  my  duty 
to  find  out  the  author,  and  to  have  him  punished? 
Well?  Is  it  my  fault  if  the  author  of  this  crime  is  an 
old  friend  of  mine,  and  if  I  was  once  upon  a  time  on 
the  point  of  marrying  a  relation  of  his  ?  There  is  no 
one  in  court  who  doubts  M.  de  Boiscoran's  guilt ;  there 
is  no  one  who  dare  blame  me:  and  yet  they  are  all  as 
cold  as  ice  towards  me." 

"  Such  is  the  world,"  said  M.  Daubigeon  with  a 
face  full  of  irony.  "  They  praise  virtue ;  but  they  hate 
it 

'  Probitas  laudatur  et  alget ! ' ' 

"  Well,  yes !  that  is  so,"  cried  M.  Galpin  in  his  turn. 
"  Yes,  they  blame  people  who  have  done  what  they  had 
not  the  courage  to  do.  The  attorney  general  has  con- 
gratulated me,  because  he  judges  things  from  on  high 
and  impartially.  Here  cliques  are  all-powerful.  Even 
those  who  ought  to  encourage  and  support  me  cry  out 
against  me.  My  natural  ally,  the  commonwealth  at- 
torney, forsakes  me  and  laughs  at  me.  The  president 
of  the  court,  my  immediate  superior,  said  to  me  this 
morning  with  intolerable  irony,  '  I  hardly  know  any 
magistrate  who  would  be  able  as  you  are  to  sacrifice 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     339 

his  relations  and  his  friends  to  the  interests  of  truth 
and  justice.  You  are  one  of  the  ancients:  you  will 
rise  high/  " 

His  friend  could  not  listen  any  further.  He  said, — 
"  Let  us  break  off  there :  we  shall  never  understand 
each  other.  Is  Jacques  de  Boiscoran  innocent,  or 
guilty?  I  do  not  know.  But  I  do  know  that  he  was 
the  pleasantest  man  in  the  world,  an  admirable  host,  a 
good  talker,  a  scholar,  and  that  he  owned  the  finest  edi- 
tions of  Horace  and  Juvenal  that  I  have  ever  seen.  I 
liked  him.  I  like  him  still;  and  it  distresses  me  to 
think  of  him  in  prison.  I  know  that  we  had  the  most 
pleasant  relations  with  each  other,  and  that  now  they 
are  broken  off.  And  you,  you  complain!  Am  I  the 
ambitious  man?  Do  I  want  to  have  my  name  con- 
nected with  a  world-famous  trial?  M.  de  Boiscoran 
will  in  all  probability  be  condemned.  You  ought  to  be 
delighted.  And  still  you  complain  ?  Why,  one  cannot 
have  even-  thing.  Who  ever  undertook  a  great  enter- 
prise, and  never  repented  of  it? 

'  Quid,  tarn  dextro  pede  concipis  ot  te 
Conatus  non  pcenitent  votique  peracti?'* 

After  that  there  was  nothing  left  for  M.  Galpin  but 
to  go  away.  He  did  go  in  a  fury,  but  at  the  same  time 
determined  to  profit  by  the  rude  truths  which  M.  Dau- 
bigeon  had  told  him;  for  he  knew  very  well  that  his 
friend  represented  in  his  views  nearly  the  whole  com- 
munity. He  was  fully  prepared  to  carry  out  his  plan. 
Immediately  after  his  return,  he  communicated  the  pa- 
pers of  the  prosecution  to  the  defence,  and  directed  his 
clerk  to  show  himself  as  obliging  as  he  could.  M.  Me- 
chinet  was  not  a  little  surprised  at  these  orders.  He 


340     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

knew  his  master  thoroughly, — this  magistrate,  whose 
shadow  he  had  been  now  for  so  many  years. 

"  You  are  afraid,  dear  sir,"  he  had  said  to  himself. 

And  as  M.  Galpin  repeated  the  injunction,  adding 
that  the  honor  of  justice  required  the  utmost  courtesy 
when  rigor  was  not  to  be  employed,  the  old  clerk  re- 
plied very  gravely, — 

"  Oh !  be  reassured,  sir.  I  shall  not  be  wanting  in 
courtesy." 

But,  as  soon  as  the  magistrate  turned  his  back,  Me- 
chinet  laughed  aloud. 

"  He  would  not  recommend  me  to  be  obliging,"  he 
thought,  "  if  he  suspected  the  truth,  and  knew  how  far 
I  am  devoted  to  the  defence.  What  a  fury  he  would 
be  in,  if  he  should  ever  find  out  that  I  have  betrayed  all 
the  secrets  of  the  investigation,  that  I  have  carried  let- 
ters to  and  from  the  prisoner,  that  I  have  made  of  Tru- 
mence  an  accomplice,  and  of  Blangin  the  jailer  an 
agent,  that  I  have  helped  Miss  Dionysia  to  visit  her 
betrothed  in  jail !  " 

For  he  had  done  all  this  four  times  more  than  enough 
to  be  dismissed  from  his  place,  and  even  to  become,  at 
least  for  some  months,  one  of  Blangin's  boarders.  He 
shivered  all  down  his  back  when  he  thought  of  this; 
and  he  had  been  furiously  angry,  when,  one  evening, 
his  sisters,  the  devout  seamstresses,  had  taken  it  into 
their  heads  to  say  to  him, — 

"  Certainly,  Mechinet,  you  are  a  different  man  ever 
since  that  visit  of  Miss  Chandore." 

"  Abominable  talkers !  "  he  had  exclaimed,  in  a  tone 
of  voice  which  frightened  them  out  of  their  wits.  "  Do 
you  want  to  see  me  hanged  ?  " 

But,  if  he  had  these  attacks  of  rage,  he  felt  not  a 
moment's  remorse.  Miss  Dionysia  had  completely  be- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     341 

witched  him;  and  he  judged  M.  Galpin's  conduct  as 
severely  as  she  did. 

To  be  sure,  M.  Galpin  had  done  nothing  contrary  to 
law ;  but  he  had  violated  the  spirit  of  the  law.  Having 
once  summoned  courage  to  begin  proceedings  against 
his  friend,  he  had  not  been  able  to  remain  impartial. 
Afraid  of  being  charged  with  timidity,  he  had  exag- 
gerated his  severity.  And,  above  all,  he  had  carried  on 
the  inquiry  solely  in  the  interests  of  a  conviction,  as 
if  the  crime  had  been  proved,  and  the  prisoner  had  not 
protested  his  innocence. 

Now,  Mechinet  firmly  believed  in  this  innocence ;  and 
he  was  fully  persuaded  that  the  day  on  which  Jacques 
de  Boiscoran  saw  his  counsel  would  be  the  day  of  his 
justification.  This  will  show  with  what  eagerness  he 
went  to  the  court-house  to  wait  for  M.  Magloire. 

But  at  noon  the  great  lawyer  had  not  yet  come.  He 
was  still  consulting  with  M.  de  Chandore. 

"  Could  any  thing  amiss  have  happened  ?  "  thought 
the  clerk. 

And  his  restlessness  was  so  great,  that,  instead  of 
going  home  to  breakfast  with  his  sisters,  he  sent  an 
office-boy  for  a  roll  and  a  glass  of  water.  At  last,  as 
three  o'clock  struck,  M.  Magloire  and  M.  Folgat  ar- 
rived ;  and  Mechinet  saw  at  once  in  their  faces,  that  he 
had  been  mistaken,  and  that  Jacques  had  not  explained. 
Still,  before  M.  Magloire,  he  did  not  dare  inquire. 

"  Here  are  the  papers/'  he  said  simply,  putting  upon 
the  table  an  immense  box. 

Then,  drawing  M.  Folgat  aside,  he  asked, — 

"  What  is  the  matter,  pray  ?  " 

The  clerk  had  certainly  acted  so  well,  that  they  could 
have  no  secret  from  him ;  and  he  was  so  fully  commit- 
ted, that  there  was  no  danger  in  relying  upon  his  dis- 


342     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

cretion.  Still  M.  Folgat  did  not  dare  to  mention  the 
name  of  the  Countess  Claudieuse ;  and  he  replied  eva- 
sively,— 

"  This  is  the  matter :  M.  de  Boiscoran  explains  fully ; 
but  he  has  no  proofs  for  his  statement,  and  we  are  busy 
collecting  proofs." 

Then  he  went  and  sat  down  by  M.  Magloire,  who 
was  already  deep  in  the  papers.  With  the  help  of  these 
documents,  it  was  easy  to  follow  step  by  step  M.  Gal- 
pin's  work,  to  see  the  efforts  he  had  made,  and  to  com- 
prehend his  strategy. 

First  of  all,  the  two  lawyers  looked  for  the  papers 
concerning  Cocoleu.  They  found  none.  Of  the  state- 
ment of  the  idiot  on  the  night  of  the  fire,  of  the  efforts 
made  since  to  obtain  from  him  a  repetition  of  this  evi- 
dence, of  the  report  of  the  experts, — of  all  this  there 
was  not  a  trace  to  be  found. 

M.  Galpin  dropped  Cocoleu.  He  had  a  right  to  do 
so.  The  prosecution,  of  course,  only  keeps  those  wit- 
nesses which  it  thinks  useful,  and  drops  all  the  others. 

"  Ah,  the  scamp  is  clever !  "  growled  M.  Magloire  in 
his  disappointment. 

It  was  really  very  well  done.  M.  Galpin  deprived 
by  this  step  the  defence  of  one  of  their  surest  means, 
of  one  of  those  incidents  in  a  trial  which  are  apt  to 
affect  the  mind  of  the  jury  so  powerfully. 

"  We  can,  however,  summon  him  at  any  time,"  said 
M.  Magloire. 

They  might  do  so,  it  is  true ;  but  what  a  difference 
it  would  make!  If  Cocoleu  appeared  for  M.  Galpin, 
he  was  a  witness  for  the  prosecution,  and  the  defence 
could  exclaim  with  indignation, — 

"  What !  You  suspect  the  prisoner  upon  the  evidence 
of  such  a  creature?" 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     343 

But,  if  he  had  to  be  summoned  by  the  defence,  he 
became  prisoner's  evidence,  that  is  to  say,  one  of  those 
witnesses  whom  the  jury  always  suspect ;  and  then  the 
prosecution  would  exclaim, — 

"  What  do  you  hope  for  from  a  poor  idiot,  whose 
mental  condition  is  such,  that  we  refused  his  evidence 
when  it  might  have  been  most  useful  to  us  ?  " 

"  If  we  have  to  go  into  court,"  murmured  M.  Fol- 
gat,  "  here  is  certainly  a  considerable  chance  of  which 
we  are  deprived.  The  whole  character  of  the  case  is 
changed.  But,  then,  how  can  M.  Galpin  prove  the 
guilt?"  •<. 

Oh !  in  the  simplest  possible  manner.  He  started 
from  the  fact  that  Count  Claudieuse  was  able  to  give 
the  precise  hour  at  which  the  crime  was  committed. 
Thence  he  passed  on  immediately  to  the  deposition  of 
young  Ribot,  who  had  met  M.  de  Boiscoran  on  his 
way  to  Valpinson,  crossing  the  marshes,  before  the 
crime,  and  to  that  of  Gaudry,  who  had  seen  him  come 
back  from  Valpinson  through  the  woods,  after  the 
crime.  Three  other  witnesses  who  had  turned  up  dur- 
ing the  investigation  confirmed  this  evidence ;  and  by 
these  means  alone,  and  by  comparing  the  hours,  M. 
Galpin  succeeded  in  proving,  almost  beyond  doubt,  that 
the  accused  had  gone  to  Valpinson,  and  nowhere  else, 
and  that  he  had  been  there  at  the  time  the  crime  was 
committed. 

What  was  he  doing  there? 

To  this  question  the  prosecution  replied  by  the  evi- 
dence taken  on  the  first  day  of  the  inquiry,  by  the  water 
in  which  Jacques  had  washed  his  hands,  the  cartridge- 
case  found  near  the  house,  and  the  identity  of  the  shot 
extracted  from  the  count's  wounds  with  those  seized 
with  the  gun  at  Boiscoran. 


344     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

Every  thing  was  plain,  precise,  and  formidable,  ad- 
mitting of  no  discussion,  no  doubt,  no  suggestion.  It 
looked  like  a  mathematical  deduction. 

"  Whether  he  be  innocent  or  guilty,"  said  M.  Ma- 
gloire  to  his  young  colleague,  "  Jacques  is  lost,  if  we 
cannot  get  hold  of  some  evidence  against  the  Countess 
Claudieuse.  And  even  in  that  case,  even  if  it  should  be 
established  that  she  is  guilty,  Jacques  will  always  be 
looked  upon  as  her  accomplice." 

Nevertheless,  they  spent  a  part  of  the  night  in  going 
over  all  the  papers  carefully,  and  in  studying  every 
point  made  by  the  prosecution. 

Next  morning,  about  nine  o'clock,  having  had  only 
a  few  hours'  sleep,  they  went  together  to  the  prison. 


XVII. 

THE  night  before,  the  jailer  of  Sauveterre  had  said 
to  his  wife,  at  supper, — 

"  I  am  tired  of  the  life  I  am  leading  here.  They 
have  paid  me  for  my  place,  have  not  they?  Well,  I 
mean  to  go." 

"  You  are  a  fool !  "  his  wife  had  replied.  "  As  long 
as  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  a  prisoner  there  is  a  chance  of 
profit.  You  don't  know  how  rich  those  Chandores  are. 
You  ought  to  stay." 

Like  many  other  husbands,  Blangin  fancied  he  was 
master  in  his  own  house. 

He  remonstrated.  He  swore  to  make  the  ceiling  fall 
down  upon  him.  He  demonstrated  by  the  strength  of 
his  arm  that  he  was  master.  But — 

But,  notwithstanding  all  this,  Mrs.  Blangin  having 
decided  that  he  should  stay,  he  did  stay.  Sitting  in 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     345 

front  of  his  jail,  and  given  up  to  the  most  dismal  pre- 
sentiments, he  was  smoking  his  pipe,  when  M.  Ma- 
gloire  and  M.  Folgat  appeared  at  the  prison,  and 
handed  him  M.  Galpin's  permit.  He  rose  as  they  came 
in.  He  was  afraid  of  them,  not  knowing  whether  they 
were  in  Miss  Dionysia's  secret  or  not.  He  therefore 
politely  doffed  his  worsted  cap,  took  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth,  and  said, — 

"  Ah !  You  come  to  see  M.  de  Boiscoran,  gentlemen  ? 
I  will  show  you  in:  just  give  me  time  to  go  for  my 
keys." 

M.  Magloire  held  him  back. 

"  First  of  all,"  he  said,  "  how  is  M.  de  Boiscoran  ?  " 

"  Only  so-so,"  replied  the  jailer. 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  all  prisoners  when 
they  see  that  things  are  likely  to  turn  out  badly  for 
them?" 

The  two  lawyers  looked  at  each  other  sadly. 

It  was  clear  that  Blangin  thought  Jacques  guilty, 
and  that  was  a  bad  omen.  The  persons  who  stand 
guard  over  prisoners  have  generally  a  very  keen  scent ; 
and  not  unfrequently  lawyers  consult  them,  very  much 
as  an  author  consults  the  actors  of  the  theatre  on  which 
his  piece  is  to  appear. 

"  Has  he  told  you  any  thing?  "  asked  M.  Folgat. 

"  Me  personally,  nothing,"  replied  the  jailer. 

And,  shaking  his  head,  he  added, — 

"  But  you  know  we  have  our  experience.  When  a 
prisoner  has  been  with  his  counsel,  I  almost  always  go 
up  to  see  him,  and  to  offer  him  something, — a  little 
trifle  to  set  him  up  again.  So  yesterday,  after  M.  Ma- 
gloire had  been  here,  I  climbed  up  " — 

"And  you  found  M.  de  Boiscoran  sick?" 


346     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  I  found  him  in  a  pitiful  condition,  gentlemen.  He 
lay  on  his  stomach  on  his  bed,  his  head  in  the  pillow, 
and  stiff  as  a  corpse.  I  was  some  time  in  his  cell  be- 
fore he  heard  me.  I  shook  my  keys,  I  stamped,  I 
coughed.  No  use.  I  became  frightened.  I  went  up 
to  him,  and  took  him  by  the  shoulder.  '  Eh,  sir ! ' 
Great  God !  he  leaped  up  as  if  shot  and,  sitting  up,  he 
said,  '  What  do  you  want? '  Of  course,  I  tried  to  con- 
sole him,  to  explain  to  him  that  he  ought  to  speak  out; 
that  it  is  rather  unpleasant  to  appear  in  court,  but  that 
people  don't  die  of  it;  that  they  even  come  out  of  it  as 
white  as  snow,  if  they  have  a  good  advocate.  I  might 
just  as  well  have  been  singing,  '  O  sensible  woman.' 
The  more  I  said,  the  fiercer  he  looked;  and  at  last  he 
cried,  without  letting  me  finish,  '  Get  out  from  here ! 
Leave  me ! ' ; 

He  paused  a  moment  to  take  a  whiff  at  his  pipe ;  but 
it  had  gone  out :  he  put  it  in  his  pocket,  and  went  on, — 

"  I  might  have  told  him  that  I  had  a  right  to  come 
into  the  cells  whenever  I  liked,  and  to  stay  there  as  long 
as  it  pleases  me.  But  prisoners  are  like  children :  you 
must  not  worry  them.  But  I  opened  the  wicket,  and  I 
remained  there,  watching  him.  Ah,  gentlemen,  I  have 
been  here  twenty  years,  and  I  have  seen  many  desperate 
men;  but  I  never  saw  any  despair  like  this  young 
man's.  He  had  jumped  up  as  soon  as  I  turned  my 
back,  and  he  was  walking  up  and  down,  sobbing  aloud. 
He  looked  as  pale  as  death ;  and  the  big  tears  were  run- 
ning down  his  cheeks  in  torrents/' 

M.  Magloire  felt  each  one  of  these  details  like  a  stab 
at  his  heart.  His  opinion  had  not  materially  changed 
since  the  day  before ;  but  he  had  had  time  to  reflect,  and 
to  reproach  himself  for  his  harshness. 

"  I  was  at  my  post  for  an  hour  at  least,"  continued 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     347 

the  jailer,  "  when  all  of  a  sudden  M.  de  Boiscoran 
throws  himself  upon  the  door,  and  begins  to  knock  at 
it  with  his  feet,  and  to  call  as  loud  as  he  can.  I  keep 
him  waiting  a  little  while,  so  he  should  not  know  I  was 
so  near  by,  and  then  I  open,  pretending  to  have  hur- 
ried up  ever  so  fast.  As  soon  as  I  show  myself  he  says, 
'  I  have  the  right  to  receive  visitors,  have  I  not  ?  And 
nobody  has  been  to  see  me  ?  ' — '  No  one.' — '  Are  you 
sure  ?  ' — '  Quite  sure.'  I  thought  I  had  killed  him.  He 
put  his  hands  to  his  forehead  this  way;  and  then  he 
said,  '  No  one  ! — no  mother,  no  betrothed,  no  friend ! 
Well,  it  is  all  over.  I  am  no  longer  in  existence.  I 
am  forgotten,  abandoned,  disowned.'  He  said  this  in  a 
voice  that  would  have  drawn  tears  from  stones ;  and  I, 
I  suggested  to  him  to  write  a  letter,  which  I  would  send 
to  M.  de  Chandore.  But  he  became  furious  at  once, 
and  cried,  '  No,  never !  Leave  me.  There  is  nothing 
left  for  me  but  death.'  " 

M.  Folgat  had  not  uttered  a  word ;  but  his  pallor  be- 
trayed his  emotion. 

"  You  will  understand,  gentlemen,"  Blangin  went 
on,  "  that  I  did  not  feel  quite  reassured.  It  is  a  bad 
cell  that  in  which  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  staying.  Since 
I  have  been  at  Sauveterre,  one  man  has  killed  himself 
in  it,  and  one  man  has  tried  to  commit  suicide.  So  I 
called  Trumence,  a  poor  vagrant  who  assists  me  in  the 
jail;  and  we  arranged  it  that  one  of  us  would  always 
be  on  guard,  never  losing  the  prisoner  out  of  sight 
for  a  moment.  But  it  was  a  useless  precaution.  At 
night,  when  they  carried  M.  de  Boiscoran  his  supper, 
he  was  perfectly  calm ;  and  he  even  said  he  would  try 
to  eat  something  to  keep  his  strength.  Poor  man! 
If  he  has  no  other  strength  than  what  his  meal  would 
give  him,  he  won't  go  far.  He  had  not  swallowed 


348     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

four  mouthfuls,  when  he  was  almost  smothered ;  and 
Trumence  and  I  at  one  time  thought  he  would  die 
on  our  hands :  I  almost  thought  it  might  be  fortunate. 
However,  about  nine  o'clock  he  was  a  little  better; 
and  he  remained  all  night  long  at  his  window." 

M.  Magloire  could  stand  it  no  longer. 

"  Let  us  go  up,"  he  said  to  his  colleague. 

They  went  up.  But,  as  they  entered  the  passage, 
they  noticed  Trumence,  who  was  making  signs  to 
them  to  step  lightly. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  they  asked  in  an  under- 
tone. 

"  I  believe  he  is  asleep,"  replied  the  prisoner.  "  Poor 
man !  Who  knows  but  he  dreams  he  is  free,  and  in 
his  beautiful  chateau  ?  " 

M.  Folgat  went  on  tiptoe  to  the  wicket.  But 
Jacques  had  waked  up.  He  had  heard  steps  and 
voices,  and  he  had  just  risen.  Blangin,  therefore, 
opened  the  door;  and  at  once  M.  Magloire  said  to 
the  prisoner, — 

"  I  bring  you  reinforcements, — M.  Folgat,  my  col- 
league, who  has  come  down  from  Paris  with  your 
mother." 

Coolly,  and  without  saying  a  word,  M.  de  Boiscoran 
bowed. 

"  I  see  you  are  angry  with  me,"  continued  M.  Ma- 
gloire. "  I  was  too  quick  yesterday,  much  too  quick." 

Jacques  shook  his  head,  and  said  in  an  icy  tone, — 

"  I  was  angry ;  but  I  have  reflected  since,  and  now 
I  thank  you  for  your  candor.  At  least,  I  know  my 
fate.  Innocent  though  I  be,  if  I  go  into  court,  I  shall 
be  condemned  as  an  incendiary  and  a  murderer.  I 
shall  prefer  not  going  into  court  at  all." 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     349 

"  Poor  man !    But  all  hope  is  not  lost." 

"  Yes.  Who  would  believe  me,  if  you,  my  friend, 
cannot  believe  me  ?  " 

"  I  would,"  said  M.  Folgat  promptly,  "  I,  who, 
without  knowing  you,  from  the  beginning  believed  in 
your  innocence, — I  who,  now  that  I  have  seen  you, 
adhere  to  my  conviction." 

Quicker  than  thought,  M.  de  Boiscoran  had  seized 
the  young  advocate's  hand,  and,  pressing  it  con- 
vulsively, said, — 

"  Thanks,  oh,  thanks  for  that  word  alone !  I  bless 
you,  sir,  for  the  faith  you  have  in  me ! " 

This  was  the  first  time  that  the  unfortunate  man, 
since  his  arrest,  felt  a  ray  of  hope.  Alas !  it  passed  in 
a  second.  His  eye  became  dim  again;  his  brow 
clouded  over;  and  he  said  in  a  hoarse  voice, — 

"  Unfortunately,  nothing  can  be  done  for  me  now. 
No  doubt  M.  Magloire  has  told  you  my  sad  history 
and  my  statement.  I  have  no  proof;  or  at  least,  to 
furnish  proof,  I  should  have  to  enter  into  details 
which  the  court  would  refuse  to  admit ;  or,  if  by  a  mir- 
acle they  were  admitted,  I  should  be  ruined  forever 
by  them.  They  are  confidences  which  cannot  be 
spoken  of,  secrets  which  are  never  betrayed,  veils 
which  must  not  be  lifted.  It  is  better  to  be  con- 
demned innocent  than  to  be  acquitted  infamous  and 
dishonored.  Gentlemen,  I  decline  being  defended." 

What  was  his  desperate  purpose  that  he  should 
have  come  to  such  a  decision? 

His  counsel  trembled  as  they  thought  they 
guessed  it. 

"  You  have  no  right,"  said  M.  Folgat,  "  to  give  your- 
self up  thus." 


3so     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  you  are  not  alone  in  your  trouble,  sir. 
Because  you  have  relations,  friends,  and  " — 

A  bitter,  ironical  smile  appeared  on  the  lips  of 
Jacques  de  Boiscoran  as  he  broke  in, — 

"  What  do  I  owe  to  them,  if  they  have  not  even 
the  courage  to  wait  for  the  sentence  to  be  pronounced 
before  they  condemn  me?  Their  merciless  verdict 
has  actually  anticipated  that  of  the  jury.  It  was  to 
an  unknown  person,  to  you,  M.  Folgat,  that  I  had  to 
be  indebted  for  the  first  expression  of  sympathy." 

"  Ah,  that  is  not  so,"  exclaimed  M.  Magloire,  "  you 
know  very  well." 

Jacques  seemed  not  to  hear  him.     He  went  on, — 

"  Friends  ?  Oh,  yes !  I  had  friends  in  my  days  of 
prosperity.  There  was  M.  Galpin  and  M.  Daubigeon : 
they  were  my  friends.  One  has  become  my  judge,  the 
most  cruel  and  pitiless  of  judges;  and  the  other,  who 
is  commonwealth  attorney,  has  not  even  made  an 
effort  to  come  to  my  assistance.  M.  Magloire  also 
used  to  be  a  friend  of  mine,  and  told  me  a  hundred 
times,  that  I  could  count  upon  him  as  I  count-  upon 
myself,  and  that  was  my  reason  to  choose  him  as  my 
counsel;  and,  when  I  endeavored  to  convince  him 
of  my  innocence,  he  told  me  I  lied." 

Once  more  the  eminent  advocate  of  Sauveterre  tried 
to  protest;  but  it  was  in  vain. 

"  Relations !  "  continued  Jacques  with  a  voice  trem- 
bling with  indignation, — "  oh,  yes !  I  have  relations, 
a  father  and  a  mother.  Where  are  they  when  their 
son,  victimized  by  unheard-of  fatality,  is  struggling 
in  the  meshes  of  a  most  odious  and  infamous  plot? 

"  My  father  stays  quietly  in  Paris,  devoted  to  his 
pursuits  and  usual  pleasures.  My  mother  has  come 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     351 

down  to  Sauveterre.  She  is  here  now;  and  she  has 
been  told  that  I  am  at  liberty  to  receive  visitors :  but  in 
vain.  I  was  hoping  for  her  yesterday ;  but  the  wretch 
who  is  accused  of  a  crime  is  no  longer  her  son !  She 
never  came.  No  one  came.  Henceforth  I  stand  alone 
in  the  world ;  and  now  you  see  why  I  have  a  right 
to  dispose  of  myself." 

M.  Folgat  did  not  think  for  a  moment  of  discussing 
the  point.  It"  would  have  been  useless.  Despair  never 
reasons.  He  only  said, — 

"  You  forget  Miss  Chandore,  sir." 

Jacques  turned  crimson  all  over,  and  he  murmured, 
trembling  in  all  his  limbs, — 

"  Dionysia !  " 

"  Yes,  Dionysia,"  said  the  young  advocate.  "  You 
forget  her  courage,  her  devotion,  and  all  she  has  done 
for  you.  Can  you  say  that  she  abandons  and  denies 
you, — she  who  set  aside  all  her  reserve  and  her  timid- 
ity for  your  sake,  and  came  and  spent  a  whole  night 
in  this  prison  ?  She  was  risking  nothing  less  than  her 
maidenly  honor;  for  she  might  have  been  discovered 
or  betrayed.  She  knew  that  very  well,  nevertheless 
she  did  not  hesitate." 

"  Ah !  you  are  cruel,  sir,"  broke  in  Jacques. 

And,  pressing  the  lawyer's  arm  hard,  he  went  on, — > 

"  And  do  you  not  understand  that  her  memory  kills 
x  me,  and  that  my  misery  is  all  the  greater  as  I  know 
but  too  well  what  bliss  I  am  losing?  Do  you  not  see 
that  I  love  Dionysia  as  woman  never  was  loved  be- 
fore ?  Ah,  if  my  life  alone  was  at  stake !  I,  at  least,  I 
have  to  make  amends  for  a  great  wrong;  but  she — • 
Great  God,  why  did  I  ever  come  across  her  path  ?  " 

He  remained  for  a  moment  buried  in  thought ;  then 
he  added, — 


352     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  And  yet  she,  also,  did  not  come  yesterday.  Why  ? 
Oh !  no  doubt  they  have  told  her  all.  They  have  told 
her  how  I  came  to  be  at  Valpinson  the  night  of  the 
crime." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Jacques,"  said  M.  Magloire. 
"  Miss  Chandore  knows  nothing." 

"Is  it  possible?" 

"  M.  Magloire  did  not  speak  in  her  presence,"  added 
M.  Folgat ;  "  and  we  have  bound  over  M.  de  Chan- 
dore to  secrecy.  I  insisted  upon  it  that  you  alone 
had  the  right  to  tell  the  truth  to  Miss  Dionysia." 

"  Then  how  does  she  explain  it  to  herself  that  I  am 
not  set  free?" 

"  She  cannot  explain  it." 

"  Great  God !  she  does  not  also  think  I  am  guilty  ?  " 

"  If  you  were  to  tell  her  so  yourself,  she  would  not 
believe  you." 

"  And  still  she  never  came  here  yesterday." 

"  She  could  not.  Although  they  told  her  nothing, 
your  mother  had  to  be  told.  The  marchioness  was  lit- 
erally thunderstruck.  She  remained  for  more  than  an 
hour  unconscious  in  Miss  Dionysia's  arms.  When 
she  recovered  her  consciousness,  her  first  words  were 
for  you;  but  it  was  then  too  late  to  be  admitted 
here." 

When  M.  Folgat  mentioned  Miss  Dionysia's  name, 
he  had  found  the  surest,  and  perhaps  the  only  means 
to  break  Jacques's  purpose. 

"  How  can  I  ever  sufficiently  thank  you,  sir  ? " 
asked  the  latter. 

"  By  promising  me  that  you  will  forever  abandon 
that  fatal  resolve  which  you  had  formed,"  replied  the 
young  advocate.  "If  you  were  guilty,  I  should  be 
the  first  to  say,  '  Be  it  so ! '  and  I  would  furnish  you 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     353 

the  means.  Suicide  would  be  an  expiation.  But,  as 
you  are  innocent,  you  have  no  right  to  kill  yourself: 
suicide  would  be  a  confession." 

"What  am  I  to  do?" 

"  Defend  yourself.    Fight." 

"Without  hope?" 

"  Yes,  even  without  hope.  When  you  faced  the 
Prussians,  did  you  ever  think  of  blowing  out  your 
brains  ?  No !  And  yet  you  knew  that  they  were  su- 
perior in  numbers,  and  would  conquer,  in  all  proba- 
bility. Well,  you  are  once  more  in  face  of  the  enemy ; 
and  even  if  you  were  certain  of  -being  conquered, 
that  is  to  say,  of  being  condemned,  I  should  still 
say,  '  Fight.'  If  you  were  condemned,  and  it 
was  the  day  before  you  should  have  to  mount  the 
scaffold,  I  should  still  say,  '  Fight.  You  must  live  on ; 
for  up  to  that  hour  something  may  happen  which  will 
enable  us  to  discover  the  guilty  one/  And,  if  no 
such  event  should  happen,  I  should  repeat,  neverthe- 
less, '  You  must  wait  for  the  executioner  in  order  to 
protest  from  the  scaffold  against  the  judicial  murder, 
and  once  more  to  affirm  your  innocence.' " 

As  M.  Folgat  uttered  these  words,  Jacques  had 
gradually  recovered  his  bearing ;  and  now  he  said, — 

"  Upon  my  honor,  sir,  I  promise  you  I  will  hold  out 
to  the  bitter  end." 

"  Well !  "  said  M.  Magloire— "  very  well ! " 

"  But  what  is  to  be  done  ?  "  asked  Jacques. 

"  First  of  all,"  replied  M.  Folgat,  "  I  mean  to  recom- 
mence, for  our  benefit,  the  investigation  which  M.  Gal- 
pin  has  left  incomplete.  To-night  your  mother  and  I 
will  leave  for  Paris.  I  have  come  to  ask  you  for  the 
necessary  information,  and  for  the  means  to  explore 
your  house  in  Vine  Street,  to  discover  the  friend  whose 


354     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

name  you  assumed,  and  the  servant  who  waited  upon 
you." 

The  bolts  were  drawn  as  he  said  this ;  and  at  the 
open  wicket  appeared  Blangin's  rubicund  face. 

"  The  Marchioness  de  Boiscoran,"  he  said,  "  is  in 
the  parlor,  and  begs  you  will  come  down  as  soon  as 
you  have  done  with  these  gentlemen." 

Jacques  had  turned  very  pale. 

"  My  mother,"  he  murmured.  Then  he  added, 
speaking  to  the  jailer, — 

"  Do  not  go  yet.     We  have  nearly  done." 

His  agitation  was  too  great :  he  could  not  master  it. 
He  said  to  the  two  lawyers, — 

"  We  must  stop  here  for  to-day.  I  cannot  think 
now." 

But  M.  Folgat  had  declared  he  would  leave  for 
Paris  that  very  night ;  and  he  was  determined  to  do  so. 
He  said,  therefore, — 

"  Our  success  depends  on  the  rapidity  of  our  move- 
ments. I  beg  you  will  let  me  insist  upon  your  giving 
me  at  once  the  few  items  of  information  which  I  need 
for  my  purposes." 

Jacques  shook  his  head  sadly.     He  began, — 

"  The  task  is  out  of  your  power,  sir." 

"  Nevertheless,  do  what  my  colleague  asks  you," 
urged  M.  Magloire.  Without  any  further  opposition, 
and  (who  knows?)  perhaps  with  a  secret  hope  which 
he  would  not  confess  to  himself,  Jacques  informed 
the  young  advocate  of  the  most  minute  details  about 
his  relations  to  the  Countess  Claudieuse.  He  told  him 
at  what  hour  she  used  to  come  to  the  house,  what  roads 
she  took,  and  how  she  was  most  commonly  dressed. 
The  keys  of  the  house  were  at  Boiscoran,  in  a  drawer 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     355 

which  Jacques  described.  He  had  only  to  ask  An- 
thony for  them.  Then  he  mentioned  how  they  might 
find  out  what  had  become  of  that  Englishman  whose 
name  he  had  borrowed.  Sir  Francis  Burnett  had  a 
brother  in  London.  Jacques  did  not  know  his  precise 
address;  but  he  knew  he  had  important  business-rela- 
tions with  India,  and  had,  once  upon  a  time,  been 
cashier  in  the  great  house  of  Gilmour  and  Benson. 

As  to  the  English  servant-girl  who  had  for  three 
years  attended  to  his  house  in  Vine  Street,  Jacques 
had  taken  her  blindly,  upon  the  recommendation  of  an 
agency  in  the  suburbs ;  and  he  had  had  nothing  to  do 
with  her,  except  to  pay  her  her  wages,  and,  occasion- 
ally, some  little  gratuity  besides.  All  he  could  say, 
and  even  that  he  had  learned  by  mere  chance,  was, 
that  the  girl's  name  was  Suky  Wood ;  that  she  was  a 
native  of  Folkstone,  where  her  parents  kept  a  sailors' 
tavern;  and  that,  before  coming  to  France,  she  had 
been  a  chambermaid  at  the  Adelphi  in  Liverpool. 

M.  Folgat  took  careful  notes  of  all  he  could  learn. 
Then  he  said, — 

"  This  is  more  than  enough  to  begin  the  campaign. 
Now  you  must  give  me  the  name  and  address  of  your 
tradesmen  in  Passy." 

"  You  will  find  a  list  in  a  small  pocket-book  which 
is  in  the  same  drawer  with  the  keys.  In  the  same 
drawer  are  also  all  the  deeds  and  other  papers  con- 
cerning the  house.  Finally,  you  might  take  Anthony 
with  you :  he  is  devoted  to  me." 

"  I  shall  certainly  take  him,  if  you  permit  me,"  re- 
plied the  lawyer.  Then  putting  up  his  notes,  he 
added, — 

"  I  shall  not  be  absent  more  than  three  or  four  days ', 


356     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE 

and,  as  soon  as  I  return,  we  will  draw  up  our  plan  of 
defence.  Till  then,  my  dear  client,  keep  up  your 
courage." 

They  called  Blangin  to  open  the  door  for  them ;  and, 
after  having  shaken  hands  with  Jacques  de  Boiscoran, 
M.  Folgat  and  M.  Magloire,  went  away. 

"  Well,  are  we  going  down  now?  "  asked  the  jailer. 

But  Jacques  made  no  reply. 

He  had  most  ardently  longed  for  his  mother's  visit : 
and  now,  when  he  was  about  to  see  her,  he  felt  as- 
sailed by  all  kinds  of  vague  and  sombre  apprehensions. 
The  last  time  he  had  kissed  her  was  in  Paris,  in  the 
beautiful  parlor  of  their  family  mansion.  He  had 
left  her,  Tiis  heart  swelling  with  hopes  and  joy,  to  go 
to  his  Dionysia;  and  his  mother,  he  remembered  dis- 
tinctly, had  said  to  him,  "  I  shall  not  see  you  again 
till  the  day  before  the  wedding." 

And  now  she  was  to  see  him  again,  in  the  parlor  of 
a  jail,  accused  of  an  abominable  crime.  And  perhaps 
she  was  doubtful  of  his  innocence. 

"  Sir,  the  marchioness  is  waiting  for  you,"  said  the 
jailer  once  more.  At  the  man's  voice,  Jacques 
trembled. 

"  I  am  ready,"  he  replied :  "  let  us  go !  "  And,  while 
descending  the  stairs,  he  tried  his  best  to  compose  his 
features,  and  to  arm  himself  with  courage  and  calm- 
ness. 

"  For,"  he  said,  "  she  must  not  become  aware  of  it, 
how  horrible  my  position  is." 

At  the  foot  of  the  steps,  Blangin  pointed  at  a  door, 
and  said, — 

"  That  is  the  parlor.  When  the  marchioness  wants 
to  go,  please  call  me." 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE     357 

On  the  threshold,  Jacques  paused  once  more. 

The  parlor  of  the  jail  at  Sauveterre  is  an  immense 
vaulted  hall,  lighted  up  by  two  narrow  windows  with 
close,  heavy  iron  gratings.  There  is  no  furniture  save 
a  coarse  bench  fastened  to  the  damp,  untidy  wall ;  and 
on  this  bench,  in  the  full  fight  of  the  sun,  sat,  or  rather 
lay,  apparently  bereft  of  all  strength,  the  Marchioness 
de  Boiscoran. 

When  Jacques  saw  her,  he  could  hardly  suppress  a 
cry  of  horror  and  grief.  Was  that  really  his  mother, 
— that  thin  old  lady  with  the  sallow  complexion,  the 
red  eyes,  and  trembling  hands? 

"  O  God,  O  God ! "  he  murmured. 

She  heard  him,  for  she  raised  her  head ;  and,  when 
she  recognized  him,  she  wanted  to  rise;  but  her 
strength  forsook  her,  and  she  sank  back  upon  the 
bench,  crying, — 

"  O  Jacques,  my  child ! " 

She,  also,  was  terrified  when  she  saw  what  two 
months  of  anguish  and  sleeplessness  had  done  for 
Jacques.  But  he  was  kneeling  at  her  feet  upon  the 
muddy  pavement,  and  said  in  a  barely  intelligible 
voice, — 

"  Can  you  pardon  me  the  great  grief  I  cause  you  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  with  a  bewildered 
air;  and  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  she  took  his  head  in 
her  two  hands,  kissed  him  with  passionate  vehemence, 
and  said, — 

"  Will  I  pardon  you  ?  Alas,  what  have  I  to  pardon  ? 
If  you  were  guilty,  I  should  love  you  still ;  and  you  are 
innocent." 

Jacques  breathed  more  freely.  In  his  mother's  voice 
he  felt  that  she,  at  least,  was  sure  of  him. 


358     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

"And  father?"  he  asked. 

There  was  a  faint  blush  on  the  pale  cheeks  of  the 
marchioness. 

"  I  shall  see  him  to-morrow,"  she  replied ;  "  for  I 
leave  to-night  with  M.  Folgat." 

"  What !    In  this  state  of  weakness  ?  " 

"I  must." 

"  Could  not  father  leave  his  collections  for  a  few 
days?  Why  did  he  not  come  down?  Does  he  think 
I  am  guilty  ?  " 

"  No :  it  is  just  because  he  is  so  sure  of  your  inno- 
cence, that  he  remains  in  Paris.  He  does  not  be- 
lieve you  in  danger.  He  insists  upon  it  that  justice 
cannot  err." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Jacques  with  a  forced  smile. 

Then  changing  his  tone, — 

"And  Dionysia?  Why  did  she  not  come  with 
you?" 

"  Because  I  would  not  have  it.  She  knows  nothing. 
It  has  been  agreed  upon  that  the  name  of  the  Count- 
ess Claudieuse  is  not  to  be  mentioned  in  her  presence ; 
and  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about  that  abominable 
woman.  Jacques,  my  poor  child,  where  has  that  un- 
lucky passion  brought  you  !  " 

He  made  no  reply. 

"  Did  you  love  her  ?  "  asked  the  marchioness. 

"  I  thought  I  did." 

"And  she?" 

"  Oh,  she !  God  alone  knows  the  secret  of  that 
strange  heart." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  hope  from  her,  then,  no  pity, 
no  remorse  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  I  have  given  her  up.  She  has  had  her 
revenge.  She  had  forewarned  me." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     359 

The  marchioness  sighed. 

"  I  thought  so,"  she  said.  "  Last  Sunday,  when  I 
knew  as  yet  of  nothing,  I  happened  to  be  close  to  her 
at  church,  and  unconsciously  admired  her  profound  de- 
votion, the  purity  of  her  eye,  and  the  nobility  of  her 
manner.  Yesterday,  when  I  heard  the  truth,  I  shud- 
dered. I  felt  how  formidable  a  woman  must  be  who 
can  affect  such  calmness  at  a  time  when  her  lover  lies 
in  prison  accused  of  the  crime  which  she  has  com- 
mitted." 

"  Nothing  in  the  world  would  trouble  her,  mother." 

"  Still  she  ought  to  tremble ;  for  she  must  know 
that  you  have  told  us  every  thing.  How  can  we  un- 
mask her?" 

But  time  was  passing ;  and  Blangin  came  to  tell  the 
marchioness  that  she  had  to  withdraw.  She  went, 
after  having  kissed  her  son  once  more. 

That  same  evening,  according  to  their  arrangement, 
she  left  for  Paris,  accompanied  by  M.  Folgat  and  old 
Anthony. 


XVIII. 

AT  Sauveterre,  everybody,  M.  de  Chandore  as  much 
as  Jacques  himself,  blamed  the  Marquis  de  Boiscoran. 
He  persisted  in  remaining  in  Paris,  it  is  true :  but  it 
was  certainly  not  from  indifference ;  for  he  was  dying 
with  anxiety.  He  had  shut  himself  up,  and  refused  to 
see  even  his  oldest  friends,  even  his  beloved  dealers 
in  curiosities.  He  never  went  out ;  the  dust  accumu- 
lated on  his  collections ;  and  nothing  could  arouse  him 
from  this  state  of  prostration,  except  a  letter  from 
Sauveterre. 


360     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

Every  morning  he  received  three  or  four, — from 
the  marchioness  or  M.  Folgat,  from  M.  Seneschal  or 
M.  Magloire,  from  M.  de  Chandore,  Dionysia,  or  even 
from  Dr.  Seignebos.  Thus  he  could  follow  at  a  dis- 
tance all  the  phases,  and  even  the  smallest  changes,  in 
the  proceedings.  Only  one  thing  he  would  not  do :  he 
would  not  come  down,  however  important  his  coming 
might  be  for  his  son.  He  did  not  move. 

Once  only  he  had  received,  through  Dionysia's 
agency,  a  letter  from  Jacques  himself;  and  then  he 
ordered  his  servant  to  get  ready  his  trunks  for  the 
same  evening.  But  at  the  last  moment  he  had  given 
counter-orders,  saying  that  he  had  reconsidered,  and 
would  not  go. 

"  There  is  something  extraordinary  going  on  in 
the  mind  of  the  marquis,"  said  the  servants  to  each 
other. 

The  fact  is,  he  spent  his  days,  and  a  part  of  his 
nights,  in  his  cabinet,  half-buried  in  an  arm-chair,  eat- 
ing little,  and  sleeping  still  less,  insensible  to  all  that 
went  on  around  him.  On  his  table  he  had  arranged 
all  his  letters  from  Sauveterre  in  order;  and  he  read 
and  re-read  them  incessantly,  examining  the  phrases, 
and  trying,  ever  in  vain,  to  disengage  the  truth  from 
this  mass  of  details  and  statements.  He  was  no 
longer  as  sure  of  his  son  as  at  first :  far  from  it !  Every 
day  had  brought  him  a  new  doubt ;  every  letter,  addi- 
tional uncertainty.  Hence  he  was  all  the  time  a  prey 
to  most  harassing  apprehensions.  He  put  them  aside ; 
but  they  returned,  stronger  and  more  irresistible  than 
before,  like  the  waves  of  the  rising  tide. 

He  was  thus  one  morning  in  his  cabinet.  It  was 
very  early  yet;  but  he  was  more  than  ever  suffering 
from  anxiety,  for  M.  Folgat  had  written,  "To-morrow 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     361 

all  uncertainty  will  end.  To-morrow  the  close  confine- 
ment will  be  raised,  and  M.  Jacques  will  see  M.  Ma- 
gloire,  the  counsel  whom  he  has  chosen.  We  will 
write  immediately." 

It  was  for  this  news  the  marquis  was  waiting  now. 
Twice  already  he  had  rung  to  inquire  if  the  mail 
had  not  come  yet,  when  all  of  a  sudden  his  valet 
appeared  and  with  a  frightened  air  said, — 

"  The  marchioness.  She  has  just  come  with  An- 
thony, M.  Jacques's  own  man." 

He  hardly  said  so,  when  the  marchioness  herself 
entered,  looking  even  worse  than  she  had  done  in  the 
prison  parlor;  for  she  was  overcome  by  the  fatigue 
of  a  night  spent  on  the  road. 

The  marquis  had  started  up  suddenly.  As  soon 
as  the  servant  had  left  the  room,  and  shut  the  door 
again,  he  said  with  trembling  voice,  as  if  wishing  for 
an  answer,  and  still  fearing  to  hear  it, — 

"Has  any  thing  unusual  happened?" 

"  Yes." 

" Good  or  bad  ?  " 

"  Sad." 

"  Great  God  !     Jacques  has  not  confessed  ?  " 

"  How  could  he  confess  when  he  is  innocent  ?  " 

"  Then  he  has  explained  ?  " 

"  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  and  M.  Folgat,  Dr. 
Seignebos,  and  all  who  know  him  and  love  him,  yes, 
but  not  for  the  public,  for  his  enemies,  or  the  law. 
He  has  explained  every  thing;  but  he  has  no  proof." 

The  mournful  features  of  the  marquis  settled  into 
still  deeper  gloom. 

"  In  other  words,  he  has  to  be  believed  on  his  own 
word  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Don't  you  believe  him?" 


362     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  I  am  not  the  judge  of  that,  but  the  jury." 

"  Well,  for  the  jury  he  will  find  proof.  M.  Folgat, 
who  has  come  in  the  same  train  with  me,  and  whom 
you  will  see  to-day,  hopes  to  discover  proof." 

"Proof  of  what?" 

Perhaps  the  marchioness  was  not  unprepared  for 
such  a  reception.  She  expected  it,  and  still  she  was 
disconcerted. 

"  Jacques,"  she  began,  "  has  been  the  lover  of  the 
Countess  Claudieuse." 

"  Ah,  ah  !  "  broke  in  the  marquis. 

And,  in  a  tone  of  offensive  irony,  he  added, — 

"  No  doubt  another  story  of  adultery ;  eh  ?  " 

The  marchioness  did  not  answer.  She  quietly  went 
on, — 

"  When  the  countess  heard  of  Jacques's  marriage, 
and  that  he  abandoned  her,  she  became  exasperated, 
and  determined  to  be  avenged." 

"And,  in  order  to  be  avenged,  she  attempted  to 
murder  her  husband;  eh?" 

"  She  wished  to  be  free." 

The  Marquis  de  Boiscoran  interrupted  his  wife  with 
a  formidable  oath.  Then  he  cried, — 

"  And  that  is  all  Jacques  could  invent !  And  to 
come  to  such  an  abortive  story — was  that  the  reason 
of  his  obstinate  silence?" 

"  You  do  not  let  me  finish.  Our  son  is  the  victim 
of  unparalleled  coincidences." 

"  Of  course !  Unparalleled  coincidences  !  That  is 
what  every  one  of  the  thousand  or  two  thousand  ras- 
cals say  who  are  sentenced  every  year.  Do  you  think 
they  confess?  Not  they!  Ask  them,  and  they  will 
prove  to  you  that  they  are  the  victims  of  fate,  of  some 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     363 

dark  plot,  and,  finally,  of  an  error  of  judgment.  As  if 
justice  could  err  in  these  days  of  ours,  after  all  these 
preliminary  examinations,  long  inquiries,  and  careful 
investigations." 

"  You  will  see  M.  Folgat.  He  will  tell  you  what 
hope  there  is." 

"And  if  all  hope  fails?" 

The  marchioness  hung  her  head. 

"  What  then  ?  "  insisted  the  marquis. 

"All  would  not  be  lost  yet.  But  then  we  should 
have  to  endure  the  pain  of  seeing  our  son  brought  up 
in  court." 

The  tall  figure  of  the  old  gentleman  had  once  more 
risen  to  its  full  height;  his  face  grew  red;  and  the 
most  appalling  wrath  flashed  from  his  eyes. 

"  Jacques  brought  up  in  court !  "  he  cried  with  a 
formidable  voice.  "  And  you  come  and  tell  me  that 
coolly,  as  if  it  were  a  very  simple  and  quite  natural 
matter !  And  what  will  happen  then,  if  he  is  in  court  ? 
He  will  be  condemned ;  and  a  Boiscoran  will  go  to  the 
galleys.  But  no,  that  cannot  be !  I  do  not  say  that  a 
Boiscoran  may  not  commit  a  crime,  passion  makes 
us  do  strange  things ;  but  a  Boiscoran,  when  he  regains 
his  senses,  knows  what  becomes  him  to  do.  Blood 
washes  out  all  stains.  Jacques  prefers  the  execu- 
tioner; he  waits;  he  is  cunning;  he  means  to  plead. 
If  he  but  save  his  head,  he  is  quite  content.  A  few 
years  at  hard  labor,  I  suppose,  will  be  a  trifle  to  him. 
And  that  coward  should  be  a  Boiscoran :  my  blood 
should  flow  in  his  veins !  Come,  come,  madam, 
Jacques  is  no  son  of  mine." 

Crushed  as  the  marchioness  had  seemed  to  be  till 
now,  she  rose  under  this  atrocious  insult. 


364     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Sir !  "  she  cried. 

But  M.  de  Boiscoran  was  not  in  a  state  to  listen 
to  her. 

"  I  know  what  I  am  saying,"  he  went  on.  "  I  re- 
member every  thing,  if  you  have  forgotten  every  thing. 
Come,  let  us  go  back  to  your  past.  Remember  the 
time  when  Jacques  was  born,  and  tell  me  what  year 
it  was  when  M.  de  Margeril  refused  to  meet  me." 

Indignation  restored  to  the  marchioness  her 
strength.  She  cried, — 

"  And  you  come  and  tell  me  this  to-day,  after  thirty 
years,  and  God  knows  under  what  circumstances ! " 

"  Yes,  after  thirty  years.  Eternity  might  pass  over 
these  recollections,  and  it  would  not  efface  them.  And, 
but  for  these  circumstances  to  which  you  refer,  I 
should  never  have  said  any  thing.  At  the  time  to 
which  I  allude,  I  had  to  choose  between  two  evils, — 
either  to  be  ridiculous,  or  to  be  hated.  I  preferred 
to  keep  silence,  and  not  to  inquire  too  far.  My  hap- 
piness was  gone ;  but  I  wished  to  save  my  peace.  We 
have  lived  together  on  excellent  terms;  but  there  has 
always  been  between  us  this  high  wall,  this  suspicion. 
As  long  as  I  was  doubtful,  I  kept  silent.  But  now, 
when  the  facts  confirm  my  doubts,  I  say  again, 
'  Jacques  is  no  son  of  mine ! ' ' 

Overcome  with  grief,  shame,  and  indignation,  the 
Marchioness  de  Boiscoran  was  wringing  her  hands; 
then  she  cried, — 

"  What  a  humiliation !  What  you  are  saying  is  too 
horrible.  It  is  unworthy  of  you  to  add  this  terrible 
suffering  to  the  martyrdom  which  I  am  enduring." 

M.  de  Boiscoran  laughed  convulsively. 

"  Have  I  brought  about  this  catastrophe  ?  " 

"  Well  then,  yes !     One  day  I  was  imprudent  and 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     365 

indiscreet.  I  was  young;  I  knew  nothing  of  life;  the 
world  worshipped  me;  and  you,  my  husband,  my 
guide,  gave  yourself  up  to  your  ambition,  and  left  me 
to  myself.  I  could  not  foresee  the  consequences  of  a 
very  inoffensive  piece  of  coquetry." 

"  You  see,  then,  now  these  consequences.  After 
thirty  years,  I  disown  the  child  that  bears  my  name; 
and  I  say,  that,  if  he  is  innocent,  he  suffers  for  his 
mother's  sins.  Fate  would  have  it  that  your  son 
should  covet  his  neighbor's  wife,  and,  having  taken 
her,  it  is  but  justice  that  he  should  die  the  death  of 
the  adulterer." 

"  But  you  know  very  well  that  I  have  never  forgot- 
ten my  duty." 

"  I  know   nothing." 

"  You  have  acknowledged  it,  because  you  refused 
to  hear  the  explanation  which  would  have  justified 
me." 

"  True,  I  did  shrink  from  an  explanation,  which, 
with  your  unbearable  pride,  would  necessarily  have 
led  to  a  rupture,  and  thus  to  a  fearful  scandal." 

The  marchioness  might  have  told  her  husband,  that, 
by  refusing  to  hear  her  explanation,  he  had  forfeited 
all  right  to  utter  a  reproach ;  but  she  felt  it  would  be 
useless,  and  thus  he  went  on, — 

"  All  I  do  know  is,  that  there  is  somewhere  in  this 
world  a  man  whom  I  wanted  to  kill.  Gossiping  people 
betrayed  his  name  to  me.  I  went  to  him,  and  told 
him  that  I  demanded  satisfaction,  and  that  I  hoped 
he  would  conceal  the  real  reason  for  our  encounter 
even  from  our  seconds.  He  refused  to  give  me  satis- 
faction, on  the  ground  that  he  did  not  owe  me  any, 
that  you  had  been  calumniated,  and  that  he  would 
meet  me  only  if  I  should  insult  him  publicly." 


366     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"Well?" 

"  What  could  I  do  after  that  ?  Investigate  the  mat- 
ter? You  had  no  doubt  taken  your  precautions,  and 
it  would  have  amounted  to  nothing.  Watch  you? 
I  should  only  have  demeaned  myself  uselessly ;  for  you 
were  no  doubt  on  your  guard.  Should  I  ask  for  a 
divorce  ?  The  law  afforded  me  that  remedy.  I  might 
have  dragged  you  into  court,  held  you  up  to  the  sar- 
casms of  my  counsel,  and  exposed  you  to  the  jests  of 
your  own.  I  had  a  right  to  humble  you,  to  dishonor 
my  name,  to  proclaim  your  disgrace,  to  publish  it  in 
the  newspapers.  Ah,  I  would  have  died  rather !  " 

The  marchioness  seemed  to  be  puzzled. 

"  That  was  the  explanation  of  your  conduct  ? " 

"  Yes,  that  was  my  reason  for  giving  up  public  life, 
ambitious  as  I  was.  That  was  the  reason  why  I 
withdrew  from  the  world ;  for  I  thought  everybody 
smiled  as  I  passed.  That  is  why  I  gave  up  to  you  the 
management  of  our  house  and  the  education  of  your 
son,  why  I  became  a  passionate  collector,  a  half-mad 
original.  And  you  find  out  only  to-day  that  you  have 
ruined  my  life  ?  " 

There  was  more  compassion  than  resentment  in  the 
manner  in  which  the  marchioness  looked  at  her  hus- 
band. 

"  You  had  mentioned  to  me  your  unjust  suspi- 
cions," she  replied ;  "  but  I  felt  strong  in  my  inno- 
cence, and  I  was  in  hope  that  time  and  my  conduct 
would  efface  them." 

"  Faith  once  lost  never  comes  back  again." 

"  The  fearful  idea  that  you  could  doubt  of  your 
paternity  had  never  even  occurred  to  me." 

The  marquis  shook  his  head. 

"  Still  it  was  so,"  he  replied.    "  I  have  suffered  ter- 


WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     367 

ribly.  I  loved  Jacques.  Yes,  in  spite  of  all,  in  spite 
of  myself,  I  loved  him.  Had  he  not  all  the  qualities 
which  are  the  pride  and  the  joy  of  a  family  ?  Was  he 
not  generous  and  noble-hearted,  open  to  all  lofty  sen- 
timents, affectionate,  and  always  anxious  to  please  me  ? 
I  never  had  to  complain  of  him.  And  even  lately, 
during  this  abominable  war,  has  he  not  again  shown 
his  courage,  and  valiantly  earned  the  cross  which  they 
gave  him?  At  all  times,  and  from  all  sides,  I  have 
been  congratulated  on  his  account.  They  praised  his 
talents  and  his  assiduity.  Alas !  at  the  very  moment 
when  they  told  me  what  a  happy  father  I  was,  I  was 
the  most  wretched  of  men.  How  many  times  would 
I  have  drawn  him  to  my  heart !  But  immediately  that 
horrible  doubt  rose  within  me,  if  he  should  not  be  my 
son;  and  I  pushed  him  back,  and  looked  in  his  fea- 
tures for  a  trace  of  another  man's  features." 

His  wrath  had  cooled  down,  perhaps  by  its  very 
excess. 

He  felt  a  certain  tenderness  in  his  heart,  and  sink- 
ing into  his  chair,  and  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands, 
he  murmured, — 

"If  he  should  be  my  son,  however;  if  he  should 
be  innocent !  Ah,  this  doubt  is  intolerable !  And  I 
who  would  not  move  from  here, — I  who  have  done 
nothing  for  him, — I  might  have  done  every  thing  at 
first.  It  would  have  been  easy  for  me  to  obtain  a 
change  of  venue  to  free  him  from  this  Galpin,  for- 
merly his  friend,  and  now  his  enemy." 

M.  de  Boiscoran  was  right  when  he  said  that  his 
wife's  pride  was  unmanageable.  And  still,  as  cruelly 
wounded  as  woman  well  could  be,  she  now  suppressed 
her  pride,  and,  thinking  only  of  her  son,  remained 
quite  humble.  Drawing  from  her  bosom  the  letter 


368     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

which  Jacques  had  sent  to  her  the  day  before  she  left 
Sauveterre,  she  handed  it  to  her  husband,  saying1, — 

"  Will  you  read  what  our  son  says  ?  " 

The  marquis's  hand  trembled  as  he  took  the  letter; 
and,  when  he  had  torn  it  open,  he  read, — 

"  Do  you  forsake  me  too,  father,  when  everybody 
forsakes  me  ?  And  yet  I  have  never  needed  your  love 
as  much  as  now.  The  peril  is  imminent.  Every  thing 
is  against  me.  Never  has  such  a  combination  of  fatal 
circumstances  been  seen  before.  I  may  not  be  able  to 
prove  my  innocence ;  but  you, — you  surely  cannot 
think  your  son  guilty  of  such  an  absurd  and  heinous 
crime !  Oh,  no !  surely  not.  My  mind  is  made  up.  I 
shall  fight  to  the  bitter  end.  To  my  last  breath  I  shall 
defend,  not  my  life,  but  my  honor.  Ah,  if  you  but 
knew !  But  there  are  things  which  cannot  be  written, 
and  which  only  a  father  can  be  told.  I  beseech  you 
come  to  me,  let  me  see  you,  let  me  hold  your  hand  in 
mine.  Do  not  refuse  this  last  and  greatest  comfort 
to  your  unhappy  son." 

The  marquis  had  started  up. 
"  Oh,  yes,  very  unhappy  indeed ! "  he  said. 
And,  bowing  to  his  wife,  he  said, — 
"  I  interrupted  you.     Now,  pray  tell  me  all." 
Maternal    love    conquered     womanly     resentment. 
Without  a  shadow  of  hesitation,  and  as  if  nothing  had 
taken  place,  the  marchioness  gave  her  husband  the 
whole  of  Jacques's  statement  as  he  had  made  it  to 
M.  Magloire. 

The  marquis  seemed  to  be  amazed. 
"  That  is  unheard  of !  "  he  said. 
And,  when  his  wife  had  finished,  he  added, — 
"  That  was  the  reason  why  Jacques  was  so  very 
angry  when  you  spoke  of  inviting  the  Countess  Claud- 
ieuse,  and  why  he  told  you,  that,  if  he  saw  her  enter 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     369 

at  one  door,  he  would  walk  out  of  the  other.  We  did 
not  understand  his  aversion." 

"  Alas !  it  was  not  aversion.  Jacques  only  obeyed 
at  that  time  the  cunning  lessons  given  him  by  the 
countess." 

In  less  than  one  minute  the  most  contradictory  reso- 
lutions seemed  to  flit  across  the  marquis's  face.  He 
hesitated,  and  at  last  he  said, — 

"  Whatever  can  be  done  to  make  up  for  my  inac- 
tion, I  will  do.  I  will  go  to  Sauveterre.  Jacques  must 
be  saved.  M.  de  Margeril  is  all-powerful.  Go  to  him. 
I  permit  it.  I  beg  you  will  do  it." 

The  eyes  of  the  marchioness  filled  with  tears,  hot 
tears,  the  first  she  had  shed  since  the  beginning  of  this 
scene. 

"  Do  you  not  see,"  she  asked,  "  that  what  you  wish 
me  to  do  is  now  impossible?  Every  thing,  yes,  every 
thing  in  the  world  but  that.  But  Jacques  and  I — we 
are  innocent.  Goo1  will  have  pity  on  us.  M.  Folgat 
will  save  us  " 


XIX. 

M.  FOLGAT  was  already  at  work.  He  had  confidence 
in  his  cause,  a  firm  conviction  of  the  innocence  of  his 
client,  a  desire  to  solve  the  mystery,  a  love  of  battle, 
and  an  intense  thirst  for  success:  all  these  motives 
combined  to  stimulate  the  talents  of  the  young  advo- 
cate, and  to  increase  his  activity. 

And,  above  all  this,  there  was  a  mysterious  and 
indefinable  sentiment  with  which  Dionysia  had  in- 
spired him ;  for  he  had  succumbed  to  her  charms,  like 
everybody  else.  It  was  not  love,  for  he  who  says 


370     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

love  says  hope;  and  he  knew  perfectly  well  that  al- 
together and  forever  Dionysia  belonged  to  Jacques. 
It  was  a  sweet  and  all-powerful  sentiment,  which  made 
him  wish  to  devote  himself  to  her,  and  to  count  for 
something  in  her  life  and  in  her  happiness. 

It  was  for  her  sake  that  he  had  sacrificed  all  his 
business,  and  forgotten  his  clients,  in  order  to  stay  at 
Sauveterre.  It  was  for  her  sake,  above  all,  that  he 
wished  to  save  Jacques. 

He  had  no  sooner  arrived  at  the  station,  and  left 
the  Marchioness  de  Boiscoran  in  old  Anthony's  care, 
than  he  jumped  into  a  cab,  and  had  himself  driven 
to  his  house.  He  had  sent  a  telegram  the  day  before ; 
and  his  servant  was  waiting  for  him.  In  less  than  no 
time  he  had  changed  his  clothes.  Immediately  he  went 
back  to  his  carriage,  and  went  in  search  of  the  man, 
who,  he  thought,  was  most  likely  to  be  able  to  fathom 
this  mystery. 

This  was  a  certain  Goudar,  who  was  connected 
with  the  police  department  in  some  capacity  or  other, 
and  at  all  events  received  an  income  large  enough  to 
make  him  very  comfortable.  He  was  one  of  those 
agents  for  every  thing  whom  the  police  keep  employed 
for  specially  delicate  operations,  which  require  both 
tact  and  keen  scent,  an  intrepidity  beyond  all  doubt, 
and  imperturbable  self-possession.  M.  Folgat  had 
had  opportunities  of  knowing  and  appreciating  him  in 
the  famous  case  of  the  Mutual  Discount  Society. 

He  was  instructed  to  track  the  cashier  who  had  fled, 
having  a  deficit  of  several  millions.  Goudar  had 
caught  him  in  Canada,  after  pursuing  him  for  three 
months  all  over  America;  but,  on  the  day  of  his  ar- 
rest, this  cashier  had  in  his  pocket-book  and  his  trunk 
only  some  forty  thousand  francs. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     371 

What  had  become  of  the  millions? 

When  he  was  questioned,  he  said  he  had  spent  them. 
He  had  gambled  in  stocks,  he  had  been  unfortunate, 
etc. 

Everybody  believed  him,  except  Goudar. 

Stimulated  by  the  promise  of  a  magnificent  re- 
ward, he  began  his  campaign  once  more;  and,  in 
less  than  six  weeks,  he  had  gotten  hold  of  sixteen 
hundred  thousand  francs  which  the  cashier  had  de- 
posited in  London  with  a  woman  of  bad  character. 

The  story  is  well  known ;  but  what  is  not  known  is 
the  genius,  the  fertility  of  resources,  and  the  ingenuity 
of  expedients,  which  Goudar  displayed  in  obtaining 
such  a  success.  M.  Folgat,  however,  was  fully  aware 
of  it ;  for  he  had  been  the  counsel  of  the  stockholders 
of  the  Mutual  Discount  Society;  and  he  had  vowed, 
that,  if  ever  the  opportunity  should  come,  he  would 
employ  this  marvellously  able  man. 

Goudar,  who  was  married,  and  had  a  child,  lived 
out  of  the  world  on  the  road  to  Versailles,  not  far 
from  the  fortifications.  He  occupied  with  his  family 
a  small  house  which  he  owned, — a  veritable  philoso- 
pher's home,  with  a  little  garden  in  front,  and  a  vast 
garden  behind,  in  which  he  raised  vegetables  and  ad- 
mirable fruit,  and  where  he  kept  all  kinds  of  animals. 

For  it  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  policemen  who  con- 
stantly stir  up  the  dung-heaps  of  society  love  the 
country,  and,  no  doubt  disgusted  with  man,  are  pas- 
sionately fond  of  flowers  and  animals. 

When  M.  Folgat  stepped  out  of  his  carriage  before 
this  pleasant  home,  a  young  woman  of  twenty-five  or 
twenty-six,  of  surpassing  beauty,  young  and  fresh,  was 
playing  in  the  front  garden  with  a  little  girl  of  three 
or  four  years,  all  milk  and  roses. 


372     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  M.  Goudar,  madam  ? ''  asked  M.  Folgat,  raising 
his  hat. 

The  young  woman  blushed  slightly,  and  answered 
modestly,  but  without  embarrassment,  and  in  a  most 
pleasing  voice, — . 

"  My  husband  is  in  the  garden ;  and  you  will  find 
him,  if  you  will  walk  down  this  path  around  the 
house." 

The  young  man  followed  the  direction,  and  soon 
saw  his  man  at  a  distance.  His  head  covered  with  an 
old  straw  hat,  without  a  coat,  and  in  slippers,  with  a 
huge  blue  apron  such  as  gardeners  wear,  Goudar  had 
climbed  up  a  ladder,  and  was  busy  dropping  into  a 
horsehair  bag  the  magnificent  Chasselas  grapes  of  his 
trellises.  When  he  heard  the  sand  grate  under  the 
footsteps  of  the  newcomer,  he  turned  his  head,  and 
at  once  said, — 

"Why,  M.  Folgat?     Good  morning,  sir!" 

The  young  advocate  was  not  a  little  surprised  to 
see  himself  recognized  so  instantaneously.  He  should 
certainly  never  have  recognized  the  detective.  It  was 
more  than  three  years  since  they  had  seen  each  other ; 
and  how  often  had  they  seen  each  other  then  ?  Twice, 
and  not  an  hour  each  time. 

It  is  true  that  Goudar  was  one  of  those  men  whom 
nobody  remembers.  Of  middle  height,  he  was  neither 
stout  nor  thin,  neither  dark  nor  light  haired,  neither 
young  nor  old.  A  clerk  in  a  passport  office  would  cer- 
tainly have  written  him  down  thus :  Forehead,  ordi- 
nary; nose,  ordinary;  mouth,  ordinary;  eyes,  neutral 
color;  special  marks,  none. 

It  could  not  be  said  that  he  looked  stupid;  but 
neither  did  he  look  intelligent.  Every  thing  in  him 
was  ordinary,  indifferent,  and  undecided.  Not  one 


WITHIN    AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     373 

marked  feature.  He  would  necessarily  pass  unob- 
served, and  be  forgotten  as  soon  as  he  had  passed. 

"  You  find  me  busy  securing  my  crops  for  the  win- 
ter," he  said  to  M.  Folgat.  "  A  pleasant  job.  How- 
ever, I  am  at  your  service.  Let  me  put  these  three 
bunches  into  their  three  bags,  and  I'll  come  down." 

This  was  the  work  of  an  instant;  and,  as  soon  as 
he  had  reached  the  ground,  he  turned  round,  and 
asked, — 

"Well,  and  what  do  you  think  of  my  garden?" 

And  at  once  he  begged  M.  Folgat  to  visit  his  do- 
main, and,  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  the  land-owner, 
he  praised  the  flavor  of  his  duchess  pears,  the  bright 
colors  of  his  dahlias,  the  new  arrangements  in  his 
poultry-yard,  which  was  full  of  rabbit-houses,  and  the 
beauty  of  his  pond,  with  its  ducks  of  all  colors  and  all 
possible  varieties. 

In  his  heart,  M.  Folgat  swore  at  this  enthusiasm. 
What  time  he  was  losing !  But,  when  you  expect  a 
service  from  a  man,  you  must,  at  least,  flatter  his  weak 
side.  He  did  not  spare  praise,  therefore.  He  even 
pulled  out  his  cigar-case,  and,  still  with  a  view  to  win 
the  great  man's  good  graces,  he  offered  it  to  him, 
saying, — • 

"  Can  I  offer  you  one  ?  " 

"  Thanks !     I  never  smoke,"  replied  Goudar. 

And,  when  he  saw  the  astonishment  of  the  advo- 
cate, he  explained, — 

"  At  least  not  at  home.  I  am  disposed  to  think  the 
odor  is  unpleasant  to  my  wife." 

Positively,  if  M.  Folgat  had  not  known  the  man, 
he  would  have  taken  him  for  some  good  and  simple 
retired  grocer,  inoffensive,  and  any  thing  but  bright, 
and,  bowing  to  him  politely,  he  would  have  taken  his 


374     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

leave.  But  he  had  seen  him  at  work;  and  so  he  fol- 
lowed him  obediently  to  his  greenhouse,  his  melon- 
house,  and  his  marvellous  asparagus-beds. 

At  last  Goudar  took  his  guest  to  the  end  of  the 
garden,  to  a  bower  in  which  were  some  chairs  and  a 
table,  saying, — 

"  Now  let  us  sit  down,  and  tell  me  your  business ; 
for  I  know  you  did  not  come  solely  for  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  my  domain." 

Goudar  was  one  of  those  men  who  have  heard  in 
their  lives  more  confessions  than  ten  priests,  ten  law- 
yers, and  ten  doctors  all  together.  You  could  tell 
him  every  thing.  Without  a  moment's  hesitation, 
therefore,  and  without  a  break,  M.  Folgat  told  him  the 
whole  story  of  Jacques  and  the  Countess  Claudieuse. 
He  listened,  without  saying  a  word,  without  moving 
a  muscle  in  his  face.  When  the  lawyer  had  finished, 
he  simply  said, — 

"Well?" 

"  First  of  all,"  replied  M.  Folgat,  "  I  should  like 
to  hear  your  opinion.  Do  you  believe  the  statement 
made  by  M.  de  Boiscoran?" 

"  Why  not  ?  I  have  seen  much  stranger  cases  than 
that." 

"  Then  you  think,  that,  in  spite  of  the  charges 
brought  against  him,  we  must  believe  in  his  inno- 
cence?" 

"  Pardon  me,  I  think  nothing  at  all.  Why,  you 
must  study  a  matter  before  you  can  have  an  opinion." 

He  smiled;  and,  looking  at  the  young  advocate,  he 
said, — 

"  But  why  all  these  preliminaries  ?  What  do  you 
want  of  me  ?  " 

"  Your  assistance  to  get  at  the  truth." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     375 

The  detective  evidently  expected  something  of  the 
kind.  After  a  minute's  reflection,  he  looked  fixedly 
at  M.  Folgat,  and  said, — 

"  If  I  understand  you  correctly,  you  would  like  to 
begin  a  counter-investigation  for  the  benefit  of  the 
defence  ?  " 

"  Exactly." 

"  And  unknown  to  the  prosecution?" 

"  Precisely." 

"  Well,  I  cannot  possibly  serve  you." 

The  young  advocate  knew  too  well  how  such  things 
work  not  to  be  prepared  for  a  certain  amount  of  re- 
sistance; and  he  had  thought  of  means  to  over- 
come it. 

"  That  is  not  your  final  decision,  my  dear  Goudar  ?  " 
he  said. 

"  Pardon  me.  I  am  not  my  own  master.  I  have  my 
duty  to  fulfil,  and  my  daily  occupation." 

"  You  can  at  any  time  obtain  leave  of  absence  for 
a  month." 

"  So  I  might ;  but  they  would  certainly  wonder  at 
such  a  furlough  at  headquarters.  They  would  prob- 
ably have  me  watched;  and,  if  they  found  out  that  I 
was  doing  police  work  for  private  individuals,  they 
would  scold  me  grievously,  and  deprive  themselves 
henceforth  of  my  services." 

"  Oh !  " 

"  There  is  no  '  oh ! '  about  it.  They  would  do  what 
I  tell  you,  and  they  would  be  right;  for,  after  all, 
what  would  become  of  us,  and  what  would  become  of 
the  safety  and  liberty  of  us  all,  if  any  one  could  come 
and  use  the  agents'  of  the  police  for  his  private  pur- 
poses? And  what  would  become  of  me  if  I  should 
lose  my  place?  " 


376     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  M.  de  Boiscoran's  family  is  very  rich,  and  they 
would  prove  their  gratitude  magnificently  to  the  man 
who  would  save  him." 

"  And  if  I  did  not  save  him  ?  And  if,  instead  of 
gathering  proof  of  his  innocence,  I  should  only  meet 
with  more  evidence  of  his  guilt  ?  " 

The  objection  was  so  well  founded,  that  M.  Folgat 
preferred  not  to  discuss  it. 

"  I  might,"  he  said,  "  hand  you  at  once,  and  as  a 
retainer,  a  considerable  sum,  which  you  could  keep, 
whatever  the  result  might  be." 

"  What  sum  ?  A  hundred  Napoleons  ?  Certainly  a 
hundred  Napoleons  are  not  to  be  despised ;  but  what 
would  they  do  for  me  if  I  were  turned  out?  I  have 
to  think  of  somebody  else  beside  myself.  I  have  a 
wife  and  a  child ;  and  my  whole  fortune  consists  in 
this  little  cottage,  which  is  not  even  entirely  paid  for. 
My  place  is  not  a  gold-mine;  but,  with  the  special  re- 
wards which  I  receive,  it  brings  me,  good  years  and 
bad  years,  seven  or  eight  thousand  francs,  and  I  can 
lay  by  two  or  three  thousand." 

The  young  lawyer  stopped  him  by  a  friendly  gest- 
ure, and  said, — 

"  If  I  were  to  offer  you  ten  thousand  francs  ?  " 

"  A  year's  income." 

"  If  I  offered  you  fifteen  thousand  ?  " 

Goudar  made  no  reply;  but  his  eyes  spoke. 

"  It  is  a  most  interesting  case,  this  case  of  M.  de 
Boiscoran,"  continued  M.  Folgat,  "  and  such  as  does 
not  occur  often.  The  man  who  should  expose  the 
emptiness  of  the  accusation  would  make  a  great  repu- 
tation for  himself." 

"  Would  he  make  friends  also  at  the  bar  ?  " 

"  I  admit  he  would  not." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     377 

The  detective  shook  his  head. 

"  Well,  I  confess,"  he  said,  "  I  do  not  work  for 
glory,  nor  from  love  of  my  art.  I  know  very  well 
that  vanity  is  the  great  motive-power  with  some  of 
my  colleagues ;  but  I  am  more  practical.  I  have  never 
liked  my  profession ;  and,  if  I  continue  to  practise  it, 
it  is  because  I  have  not  the  money  to  go  into  any  other. 
It  drives  my  wife  to  despair,  besides :  she  is  only  half 
alive  as  long  as  I  am  away;  and  she  trembles  every 
morning  for  fear  I  may  be  brought  home  with  a  knife 
between  my  shoulders." 

M.  Folgat  had  listened  attentively ;  but  at  the  same 
time  he  had  pulled  out  a  pocket-book,  which  looked 
decidedly  plethoric,  and  placed  it  on  the  table. 

"  With  fifteen  thousand  francs,"  he  said,  "  a  man 
may  do  something." 

"  That  is  true.  There  is  a  piece  of  land  for  sale  ad- 
joining my  garden,  which  would  suit  me  exactly. 
Flowers  bring  a  good  price  in  Paris,  and  that  business 
would  please  my  wife.  Fruit,  also,  yields  a  good 
profit." 

The  advocate  knew  now  that  he  had  caught  his  man. 

"  Remember,  too,  my  dear  Goudar,  that,  if  you  suc- 
ceed, these  fifteen  thousand  francs  would  only  be  a 
part  payment.  They  might,  perhaps,  double  the  sum. 
M.  de  Boiscoran  is  the  most  liberal  of  men,  and  he 
would  take  pleasure  in  royally  rewarding  the  man 
who  should  have  saved  him." 

As  he  spoke,  he  opened  the  pocket-book,  and  drew 
from  it  fifteen  thousand-franc  notes,  which  he  spread 
out  on  the  table. 

"  To  any  one  but  to  you,"  he  went  on,  "  I  should 
hesitate  to  pay  such  a  sum  in  advance.  Another  man 
might  take  the  money,  and  never  trouble  himself  about 


378     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

the  affair.  But  I  know  your  uprightness ;  and,  if  you 
give  me  your  word  in  return  for  the  notes,  I  shall  be 
satisfied.  Come,  shall  it  be  so?" 

The  detective  was  evidently  not  a  little  excited ;  for, 
self-possessed  as  he  was,  he  had  turned  somewhat  pale. 
He  hesitated,  handled  the  bank-notes,  and  then,  all  of 
a  sudden,  said, — 

"  Wait  two  minutes." 

He  got  up  instantly,  and  ran  towards  the  house. 

"  Is  he  going  to  consult  his  wife  ?  "  M.  Folgat  asked 
himself. 

He  did  so;  for  the  next  moment  they  appeared  at 
the  other  end  of  the  walk,  engaged  in  a  lively  dis- 
cussion. However,  the  discussion  did  not  last  long. 
Goudar  came  back  to  the  bower,  and  said, — 

"  Agreed  !    I  am  your  man !  " 

The  advocate  was  delighted,  and  shook  his  hand. 

"  Thank  you !  "  he  cried ;  "  for,  with  your  assistance, 
I  am  almost  sure  of  success.  Unfortunately,  we  have 
no  time  to  lose.  When  can  you  go  to  work?  " 

"  This  moment.  Give  me  time  to  change  my  cos- 
tume; and  I  am  at  your  service.  You  will  have  to 
give  me  the  keys  of  the  house  in  Passy." 

"  I  have  them  here  in  my  pocket." 

"  Well,  then  let  us  go  there  at  once ;  for  I  must,  first 
of  all,  reconnoitre  the  ground.  And  you  shall  see  if  it 
takes  me  long  to  dress." 

In  less  than  fifteen  minutes  he  reappeared  in  a  long 
overcoat,  with  gloves  on,  looking,  for  all  the  world, 
like  one  of  those  retired  grocers  who  have  made  a 
fortune,  and  settled  somewhere  outside  of  the  corpora- 
tion of  Paris,  displaying  their  idleness  in  broad  day- 
light, and  repenting  forever  that  they  have  given  up 
their  occupation. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     379 

"  Let  us  go,"  he  said  to  the  lawyer. 

After  having  bowed  to  Mrs.  Goudar,  who  accompa- 
nied them  with  a  radiant  smile,  they  got  into  the  car- 
riage, calling  out  to  the  driver, — 

"  Vine  Street,  Passy,  No.  23." 

This  Vine  Street  is  a  curious  street,  leading  no- 
where, little  known,  and  so  deserted,  that  the  grass 
grows  everywhere.  It  stretches  out  long  and  dreary,  is 
hilly,  muddy,  scarcely  paved,  and  full  of  holes,  and 
looks  much  more  like  a  wretched  village  lane  than  like 
a  street  belonging  to  Paris.  No  shops,  only  a  few 
houses,  but  on  the  right  and  the  left  interminable  walls, 
overtopped  by  lofty  trees. 

"  Ah !  the  place  is  well  chosen  for  mysterious  ren- 
dezvouses," growled  Goudar.  "Too  well  chosen,* I 
dare  say ;  for  we  shall  pick  up  no  information  here." 

The  carriage  stopped  before  a  small  door,  in  a  thick 
wall,  which  bore  the  traces  of  the  two  sieges  in  a  num- 
ber of  places. 

"  Here  is  No.  23,"  said  the  driver ;  "  but  I  see  no 
house." 

It  could  not  be  seen  from  the  street ;  but,  when  they 
got  in,  M.  Folgat  and  Goudar  saw  it,  rising  in  the  cen- 
tre of  an  immense  garden,  simple  and  pretty,  with  a 
double  porch,  a  slate  roof,  and  newly-painted  blinds. 

"  Great  God !  "  exclaimed  the  detective,  "  what,  a 
place  for  a  gardener !  " 

And  M.  Folgat  felt  so  keenly  the  man's  ill-concealed 
desire,  that  he  at  once  said, — 

"  If  we  save  M.  de  Boiscoran,  I  am  sure  he  will 
not  keep  this  house." 

"  Let  us  go  in,"  cried  the  detective,  in  a  voice  which 
revealed  all  his  intense  desire  to  succeed. 

Unfortunately,  Jacques  de  Boiscoran  had  spoken  but 


380     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

too  truly,  when  he  said  that  no  trace  was  left  of  former 
days.  Furniture,  carpets,  all  was  new;  and  Goudar 
and  M.  Folgat  in  vain  explored  the  four  rooms  down 
stairs,  and  the  four  rooms  up  stairs,  the  basement, 
where  the  kitchen  was,  and  finally  the  garret. 

"  We  shall  find  nothing  here,"  declared  the  detective. 
"  To  satisfy  my  conscience,  I  shall  come  and  spend  an 
afternoon  here ;  but  now  we  have  more  important  busi- 
ness. Let  us  go  and  see  the  neighbors !  " 

There  are  not  many  neighbors  in  Vine  Street. 

A  teacher  and  a  nurseryman,  a  locksmith  and  a  liv- 
eryman, five  or  six  owners  of  houses,  and  the  inevitable 
keeper  of  a  wine-shop  and  restaurant,  these  were  the 
whole  population. 

"  We  shall  soon  make  the  rounds,"  said  Goudar, 
after  having  ordered  the  coachman  to  wait  for  them 
at  the  end  of  the  street. 

Neither  the  head  master  nor  his  assistants  knew  any 
thing.  The  nurseryman  had  heard  it  said  that  No.  23 
belonged  to  an  Englishman ;  but  he  had  never  seen  him, 
and  did  not  even  know  his  name. 

The  locksmith  knew  that  he  was  called  Francis  Bur- 
nett. He  had  done  some  work  for  him,  for  which  he 
had  been  well  paid,  and  thus  he  had  frequently  seen 
him ;  but  it  was  so  long  since,  that  he  did  not  think  he 
would  recognize  him. 

"  We  are  unlucky,"  said  M.  Folgat,  after  this  visit. 

The  memory  of  the  liveryman  was  more  trustworthy. 
He  said  he  knew  the  Englishman  of  No.  23  very  well, 
having  driven  him  three  or  four  times;  and  the  de- 
scription he  gave  of  him  answered  fully  to  Jacques  de 
Boiscoran.  He  also  remembered  that  one  evening, 
when  the  weather  was  wretched,  Sir  Burnett  had  come 
himself  to  order  a  carriage.  It  was  for  a  lady,  who 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     381 

had  got  in  alone,  and  who  had  been  driven  to  the  Place 
de  la  Madeleine.  But  it  was  a  dark  night;  the  lady 
wore  a  thick  veil;  he  had  not  been  able  to  distinguish 
her  features,  and  all  he  could  say  was  that  she  looked 
above  medium  height. 

"  It  is  always  the  same  story,"  said  Goudar.  "  But 
the  wine-merchant  ought  to  be  best  informed.  If  I 
were  alone,  I  would  breakfast  there." 

"  I  shall  breakfast  with  you,"  said  M.  Folgat. 

They  did  so,  and  they  did  wisely. 

The  wine-merchant  did  not  know  much;  but  his 
waiter,  who  had  been  with  him  five  or  six  years,  knew 
Sir  Burnett,  as  everybody  called  the  Englishman,  by 
sight,  and  was  quite  well  acquainted  with  the  servant- 
girl,  Suky  Wood.  While  he  was  bringing  in  break- 
fast, he  told  them  all  he  knew. 

Suky,  he  said,  was  a  tall,  strapping  girl,  with  hair 
red  enough  to  set  her  bonnets  on  fire,  and  graceful 
enough  to  be  mistaken  for  a  heavy  dragoon  in  female 
disguise.  He  had  often  had  long  talks  with  her  when 
she  came  to  fetch  some  ready-made  dish,  or  to  buy 
some  beer,  of  which  she  was  very  fond.  She  told  him 
she  was  very  much  pleased  with  her  place,  as  she  got 
plenty  of  money,  and  had,  so  to  say,  nothing  to  do,  be- 
ing left  alone  in  the  house  for  nine  months  in  the  year. 
From  her  the  waiter  had  also  learned  that  Sir  Burnett 
must  have  another  house,  and  that  he  came  to  Vine 
Street  only  to  receive  visits  from  a  lady. 

This  lady  troubled  Suky  very  much.  She  declared 
she  had  never  been  able  to  see  the  end  of  her  nose  even, 
so  very  cautious  was  she  in  all  her  movements ;  but  she 
intended  to  see  her  in  spite  of  all. 

"  And  you  may  be  sure  she  managed  to  do  it  some 
time  or  other,"  Goudar  whispered  into  M.  Folgat's  ear. 


382     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

Finally  they  learned  from  this  waiter,  that  Suky  had 
been  very  intimate  with  the  servant  of  an  old  gentle- 
man who  lived  quite  alone  in  No.  27. 

"  We  must  see  her,"  said  Goudar. 

Luckily  the  girl's  master  had  just  gone  out,  and  she 
was  alone  in  the  house.  At  first  she  was  a  little  fright- 
ened at  being  called  upon  and  questioned  by  two  un- 
known men;  but  the  detective  knew  how  to  reassure 
her  very  quickly,  and,  as  she  was  a  great  talker,  she 
confirmed  all  the  waiter  at  the  restaurant  had  told 
them,  and  added  some  details. 

Suky  had  been  very  intimate  with  her ;  she  had  never 
hesitated  to  tell  her  that  Burnett  was  not  an  English- 
man ;  that  his  name  was  not  Burnett,  and  that  he  was 
concealing  himself  in  Vine  Street  under  a  false  name, 
for  the  purpose  of  meeting  there  his  lady-love,  who  was 
a  grand,  fine  lady,  and  marvellously  beautiful.  Finally, 
at  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  Suky  had  told  her  that  she 
was  going  back  to  England  to  her  relations.  When 
they  left  the  old  bachelor's  house,  Goudar  said  to  the 
young  advocate, — 

"  We  have  obtained  but  little  information,  and  the 
jurymen  would  pay  little  attention  to'  it ;  but  there  is 
enough  of  it  to  confirm,  at  least  in  part,  M.  de  Bois- 
coran's  statement.  We  can  prove  that  he  met  a  lady 
here  who  had  the  greatest  interest  in  remaining  un- 
known. Was  this,  as  he  says,  the  Countess  Claudieuse  ? 
We  might  find  this  out  from  Suky;  for  she  has  seen 
her,  beyond  all  doubt.  Hence  we  must  hunt  up  Suky. 
And  now,  let  us  take  our  carriage,  and  go  to  headquar- 
ters. You  can  wait  for  me  at  the  cafe  near  the  Palais 
de  Justice.  I  shall  not  be  away  more  than  a  quarter  of 
an  hour." 

It  took  him,  however,  a  good  hour  and  a  half;  and 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE     383 

M.  Folgat  was  beginning  to  be  troubled,  when  he  at 
last  reappeared,  looking  very  well  pleased. 

"  Waiter,  a  glass  of  beer !  "  he  said. 

And,  sitting  down  so  as  to  face  the  advocate,  he 
said, — 

"  I  stayed  away  rather  long ;  but  I  did  not  lose  any 
time.  In  the  first  place,  I  procured  a  month's  leave  of 
absence ;  then  I  put  my  hand  upon  the  very  man  whom 
I  wanted  to  send  after  Sir  Burnett  and  Miss  Suky. 
He  is  a  good  fellow,  called  Barousse,  fine  like  a  needle, 
and  speaks  English  like  a  native.  He  demands  twenty- 
five  francs  a  day,  his  travelling-expenses,  and  a  gratu- 
ity of  fifteen  hundred  francs  if  he  succeeds.  I  have 
agreed  to  meet  him  at  six  to  give  him  a  definite  answer. 
If  you  accept  the  conditions,  he  will  leave  for  England 
to-night,  well  drilled  by  me." 

Instead  of  any  answer,  M.  Folgat  drew  from  his 
pocket-book  a  thousand- franc,  note,  and  said, — 

"  Here  is  something  to  begin  with." 

Goudar  had  finished  his  beer,  and  said, — 

"  Well,  then,  I  must  leave  you.  I  am  going  to  hang 
about  M.  de  Tassar's  house,  and  make  my  inquiries. 
Perhaps  I  may  pick  up  something  there.  To-morrow 
I  shall  spend  my  day  in  searching  the  house  in  Vine 
Street,  and  in  questioning  all  the  tradesmen  on  your 
list.  The  day  after  to-morrow  I  shall  probably  have 
finished  here.  So  that  in  four  or  five  days  there  will 
arrive  in  Sauveterre  a  somebody,  who  will  be  myself." 
And  as  he  got  up,  he  added, — 

"  For  I  must  save  M.  de  Boiscoran.  I  will  and  I 
must  do  it.  He  has  too  nice  a  house.  Well,  we  shall 
see  each  other  at  Sauveterre." 

It  struck  four  o'clock.  M.  Folgat  left  the  cafe  im- 
mediately after  Goudar,  and  went  down  the  river  to 


384     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

University  Street.  He  was  anxious  to  see  the  marquis 
and  the  marchioness. 

"  The  marchioness  is  resting,"  said  the  valet ;  "  but 
the  marquis  is  in  his  cabinet." 

M.  Folgat  was  shown  in,  and  found  him  still  under 
the  effects  of  the  terrible  scene  he  had  undergone  in 
the  morning.  He  had  said  nothing  to  his  wife  that  he 
did  not  really  think;  but  he  was  distressed  at  having 
said  it  under  such  circumstances.  And  yet  he  felt  a 
kind  of  relief;  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  he  felt  as  if  the 
horrible  doubts  which  he  had  kept  secret  so  many  years 
had  vanished  as  soon  as  they  were  spoken  out.  When 
he  saw  M.  Folgat,  he  asked  in  a  sadly-changed  voice, — 

"Well?" 

The  young  advocate  repeated  in  detail  the  account 
given  by  the  marchioness ;  but  he  added  what  the  latter 
had  not  been  able  to  mention,  because  she  did  not  know 
it,  the  desperate  resolution  which  Jacques  had  formed. 
At  this  revelation  the  marquis  looked  utterly  overcome. 

"  The  unhappy  man  !  "  he  cried.  "  And  I  accused 
him  of —  He  thought  of  killing  himself !  " 

"And  we  had  great  trouble,  M.  Magloire  and  my- 
self," added  M.  Folgat,  "  to  overcome  his  resolution, 
great  trouble  to  make  him  understand,  that  never, 
under  any  circumstances,  ought  an  innocent  man  to 
think  of  committing  suicide." 

A  big  tear  rolled  down  the  furrowed  cheek  of  the 
old  gentleman ;  and  he  murmured, — 

"  Ah !  I  have  been  cruelly  unjust.  Poor,  unhappy 
child !  " 

Then  he  added  aloud, — 

"  But  I  shall  see  him.  I  have  determined  to  accom- 
pany the  marchioness  to  Sauveterre.  When  will  you 
leave?" 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     385 

"  Nothing  keeps  me  here  in  Paris.  I  have  done  all 
that  could  be  done,  and  I  might  return  this  evening. 
But  I  am  really  too  tired.  I  think  I  shall  to-morrow 
take  the  train  at  10.45." 

"  If  you  do  so,  we  shall  travel  in  company ;  you  un- 
derstand? To-morrow  at  ten  o'clock  at  the  Orleans 
station.  We  shall  reach  Sauveterre  by  midnight." 


XX. 


WHEN  the  Marchioness  de  Boiscoran,  on  the  day  of 
her  departure  for  Paris,  had  gone  to  see  her  son,  Dio- 
nysia  had  asked  her  to  let  her  go  with  her.  She  re- 
fused, and  the  young  girl  did  not  insist. 

"  I  see  they  are  trying  to  conceal  something  from 
me,"  she  said  simply ;  "  but  it  does  not  matter." 

And  she  had  taken  refuge  in  the  sitting-room;  and 
there,  taking  her  usual  seat,  as  in  the  happy  days  when 
Jacques  spent  all  his  evenings  by  her  side,  she  had  re- 
mained long  hours  immovable,  looking  as  if,  with  her 
mind's  eye,  she  was  following  invisible  scenes  far 
away. 

Grandpapa  Chandore  and  the  two  aunts  were  inde- 
scribably anxious.  They  knew  their  Dionysia,  their 
darling  child,  better  perhaps  than  she  knew  herself, 
having  nursed  and  watched  her  now  for  twenty  years. 
They  knew  every  expression  of  her  face,  every  gesture, 
every  intonation  of  voice,  and  could  almost  read  her 
thoughts  in  her  features. 

"  Most  assuredly  Dionysia  is  meditating  upon  some- 
thing very  serious,"  they  said.  "  She  is  evidently  cal- 
culating and  preparing  for  a  great  resolution." 


386     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

The  old  gentleman  thought  so  too,  and  asked  her  re- 
peatedly,— 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  dear  child  ?  " 

"  Of  nothing,  dear  papa,"  she  replied. 

"  You  are  sadder  than  usual :  why  are  you  so  ?  " 

"  Alas !  How  do  I  know  ?  Does  anybody  know  why 
one  day  we  have  sunshine  in  our  hearts,  and  another 
day  dismal  clouds  ?  " 

But  the  next  day  she  insisted  upon  being  taken  to 
her  seamstresses,  and  finding  Mechinet,  the  clerk,  there, 
she  remained  a  full  half-hour  in  conference  with  him. 
Then,  in  the  evening,  when  Dr.  Seignebos,  after  a 
short  visit,  was  leaving  the  room,  she  lay  in  wait  for 
him,  and  kept  him  talking  a  long  time  at  the  door.  Fi- 
nally, the  day  after,  she  asked  once  more  to  be  allowed 
to  go  and  see  Jacques.  They  could  no  longer  refuse 
her  this  sad  satisfaction ;  and  it  was  agreed  that  the 
older  of  the  two  Misses  Lavarande,  Miss  Adelaide, 
should  accompany  her. 

About  two  o'clock  on  that  day  they  knocked  at  the 
prison-door,  and  asked  the  jailer,  who  had  come  to 
open  the  door,  to  let  them  see  Jacques. 

"  I'll  go  for  him  at  once,  madam,"  replied  Blangin. 
"  In  the  meantime  pray  step  in  here :  the  parlor  is 
rather  damp,  and  the  less  you  stay  in  it,  the  better  it 
will  be." 

Dionysia  did  so,  or  rather,  she  did  a  great  deal  more ; 
for,  leaving  her  aunt  down  stairs,  she  drew  Mrs.  Blan- 
gin to  the  upper  room,  having  something  to  say  to  her, 
as  she  pretended. 

When  they  came  down  again,  Blangin  told  them 
that  M.  de  Boiscoran  was  waiting  for  them. 

"  Come !  "  said  the  young  girl  to  her  aunt. 

But  she  had  not  taken  ten  steps  in  the  long  narrow 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     387 

passage  which  led  to  the  parlor,  when  she  stopped. 
The  damp  which  fell  from  the  vaulted  ceiling  like  a 
pall  upon  her,  and  the  emotions  which  were  agitating 
her  heart,  combined  to  overwhelm  her.  She  tottered, 
and  had  to  lean  against  the  wall,  reeking  as  it  was  with 
wet  and  with  saltpetre. 

"  O  Lord,  you  are  ill !  "  cried  Miss  Adelaide. 

Dionysia  beckoned  to  her  to  be  silent. 

"  Oh,  it  is  nothing !  "  she  said.    "  Be  quiet !  " 

And  gathering  up  all  her  strength,  and  putting  her 
little  hand  upon  the  old  lady's  shoulder,  she  said, — 

"  My  darling  aunty,  you  must  render  us  an  immense 
service.  It  is  all  important  that  I  should  speak  to 
Jacques  alone.  It  would  be  very  dangerous  for  us  to 
be  overheard.  I  know  they  often  set  spies  to  listen  to 
prisoners'  talk.  Do  please,  dear  aunt,  remain  here  in 
the  passage,  and  give  us  warning,  if  anybody  should 
come." 

"  You  do  not  think  of  it,  dear  child.  Would  it  be 
proper?  " 

The  young  girl  stopped  her  again. 

"  Was  it  proper  when  I  came  and  spent  a  night  here  ? 
Alas  !  in  our  position,  every  thing  is  proper  that  may  be 
useful." 

And,  as  Aunt  Lavarande  made  no  reply,  she  felt  sure 
of  her  perfect  submission,  and  went  on  towards  the 
parlor. 

"  Dionysia !  "  cried  Jacques  as  soon  as  she  entered, — 
"Dionysia!" 

He  was  standing  in  the  centre  of  this  mournful  hall, 
looking  whiter  than  the  whitewash  on  the  wall,  but 
apparently  calm,  and  almost  smiling.  The  violence 
with  which  he  controlled  himself  was  horrible.  But 
how  could  he  allow  his  betrothed  to  see  his  despair? 


388     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

Ought  he  not,  on  the  contrary,  do  every  thing  to  re- 
assure her? 

He  came  up  to  her,  took  her  hands  in  his,  and  said, — 

"  Ah,  it  is  so  kind  in  you  to  come !  and  yet  I  have 
looked  for  you  ever  since  the  morning.  I  have  been 
watching  and  waiting,  and  trembling  at  every  noise. 
But  will  you  ever  forgive  me  for  having  made  you 
come  to  a  place  like  this,  untidy  and  ugly,  without  the 
fatal  poetry  of  horror  even  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  with  such  obstinate  fixedness,  that 
the  words  expired  on  his  lips. 

"  Why  will  you  tell  me  a  falsehood  ?  "  she  said  sadly. 

"  I  tell  you  a  falsehood !  " 

"  Yes.  Why  do  you  affect  this  gayety  and  tranquil- 
lity, which  are  so  far  from  your  heart?  Have  you  no 
longer  confidence  in  me?  Do  you  think  I  am  a  child, 
from  whom  the  truth  must  be  concealed,  or  so  feeble 
and  good  for  nothing,  that  I  cannot  bear  my  share  of 
your  troubles  ?  Do  not  smile,  Jacques ;  for  I  know  you 
have  no  hope." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Dionysia,  I  assure  you." 

"  No,  Jacques.  They  are  concealing  something  from 
me,  I  know,  and  I  do  not  ask  you  to  tell  me  what  it  is. 
I  know  quite  enough.  You  will  have  to  appear  in 
court." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  That  question  has  not  yet  been 
decided." 

"  But  it  will  be  decided,  and  against  you." 

Jacques  knew  very  well  it  would  be  so,  and  dreaded 
it ;  but  he  still  insisted  upon  playing  his  part. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  if  I  appear  in  court,  I  shall  be  ac- 
quitted." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  of  that  ?  " 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     389 

"  I  have  ninety-nine  chances  out  of  a  hundred  for 
me." 

"  There  is  one,  however,  against  you,"  cried  the 
young  girl.  And  seizing  Jacques's  hands,  and  pressing 
them  with  a  force  of  which  he  would  never  have  sus- 
pected her,  she  added, — 

"  You  have  no  right  to  run  that  one  chance." 

Jacques  trembled  in  all  his  limbs.  Was  it  possible? 
Did  he  understand  her?  Did  Dionysia  herself  come 
and  suggest  to  him  that  act  of  supreme  despair,  from 
which  his  counsel  had  so  strongly  dissuaded  him?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  said  with  trembling  voice. 

"  You  must  escape." 

"Escape?" 

"  Nothing  so  easy.  I  have  considered  the  whole 
matter  thoroughly.  The  jailers  are  in  our  pay.  I  have 
just  come  to  an  understanding  with  Blangin's  wife. 
One  evening,  as  soon  as  night  falls,  they  will  open  the 
doors  to  you.  A  horse  will  be  ready  for  you  outside 
of  town,  and  relays  have  been  prepared.  In  four 
hours  you  can  reach  Rochelle.  There,  one  of  those 
pilot-boats  which  can  stand  any  storm  takes  you  on 
board,  and  carries  you  to  England." 

Jacques  shook  his  head. 

"  That  cannot  be,"  he  replied.  "  I  am  innocent.  I 
cannot  abandon  all  I  hold  dear, — you,  Dionysia." 

A  deep  flush  covered  the  young  girl's  cheeks.  She 
stammered, — 

"  I  have  expressed  myself  badly.  You  shall  not  go 
alone." 

He  raised  his  hands  to  heaven,  as  if  in  utter  despair. 

"  Great  God  !    Thou  grantest  me  this  consolation !  " 

But  Dionysia  went  on  speaking  in  a  firmer  voice, — 

"  Did  you  think  I  would  be  mean  enough  to  forsake 


39o     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

the  friend  who  is  betrayed  by  everybody  else  ?  No,  no ! 
Grandpapa  and  my  aunts  will  accompany  me,  and  we 
will  meet  you  in  England.  You  will  change  your  name, 
and  go  across  to  America;  and  we  will  look  out,  far 
in  the  West,  for  some  new  country  where  we  can  es- 
tablish ourselves.  It  won't  be  France,  to  be  sure.  But 
our  country,  Jacques,  is  the  country  where  we  are  free, 
where  we  are  beloved,  where  we  are  happy." 

Jacques  de  Boiscoran  was  moved  to  the  last  fibre  of 
his  innermost  heart,  and  in  a  kind  of  ecstasy  which  did 
not  allow  him  to  keep  up  any  longer  his  mask  of  im- 
passive indifference.  Was  there  a  man  upon  earth  who 
could  receive  a  more  glorious  proof  of  love  and  devo- 
tion ?  And  from  what  a  woman !  From  a  young  girl, 
who  united  in  herself  all  the  qualities  of  which  a  single 
one  makes  others  proud, — intelligence  and  grace,  high 
rank  and  fortune,  beauty  and  angelic  purity. 

Ah !  she  did  not  hesitate  like  that  other  one ;  she  did 
not  think  of  asking  for  securities  before  she  granted  the 
first  favor;  she  did  not  make  a  science  of  duplicity, 
nor  hypocrisy  her  only  virtue.  She  gave  herself  up 
entirely,  and  without  the  slightest  reserve. 

And  all  this  at  the  moment  when  Jacques  saw  every 
thing  else  around  him  crumbled  to  pieces,  when  he  was 
on  the  very  brink  of  utter  despair,  just  then  this  hap- 
piness came  to  him,  this  great  and  unexpected  happi- 
ness, which  well-nigh  broke  his  heart. 

For  a  moment  he  could  not  move,  he  could  not  think. 

Then  all  of  a  sudden,  drawing  his  betrothed  to  him, 
pressing  her  convulsively  to  his  bosom,  and  covering 
her  hair  with  a  thousand  kisses,  he  cried, — 

"  I  bless  you,  oh,  my  darling !  I  bless  you,  my  well 
beloved !  I  shall  mourn  no  longer.  Whatever  may 
happen,  I  have  had  my  share  of  heavenly  bliss." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     391 

She  thought  he  consented.  Palpitating  like  the  bird 
in  the  hand  of  a  child,  she  drew  back,  and  looking  at 
Jacques  with  ineffable  love  and  tenderness,  she  said, — 

"  Let  us  fix  the  day !  " 

"What  day?" 

"  The  day  for  your  flight." 

This  word  alone  recalled  Jacques  to  a  sense  of  his 
fearful  position.  He  was  soaring  in  the  supreme  heights 
of  the  ether,  and  he  was  plunged  down  into  the  vile 
mud  of  reality.  His  face,  radiant  with  celestial  joy, 
grew  dark  in  an  instant,  and  he  said  hoarsely, — 

"  That  dream  is  too  beautiful  to  be  realized." 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  "  she  stammered. 

"  I  can  not,  I  must  not,  escape !  " 

"  You  refuse  me,  Jacques  ?  " 

He  made  no  reply. 

"  You  refuse  me,  when  I  swear  to  you  that  I  will 
join  you,  and  share  your  exile?  Do  you  doubt  my 
word  ?  Do  you  fear  that  my  grandfather  or  my  aunts 
might  keep  me  here  in  spite  of  myself  ?  " 

As  this  suppliant  voice  fell  upon  his  ears,  Jacques 
felt  as  if  all  his  energy  abandoned  him,  and  his  will  was 
shaken. 

"  I  beseech  you,  Dionysia,"  he  said,  "  do  not  insist, 
do  not  deprive  me  of  my  courage." 

She  was  evidently  suffering  agonies.  Her  eyes 
shone  with  unbearable  fire.  Her  dry  lips  were  trem- 
bling. 

"  You  will  submit  to  being  brought  up  in  court  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Yes !  " 

"  And  if  you  are  condemned?  " 

"  I  may  be,  I  know." 

"  This  is  madness !  "  cried  the  young  girl. 


392     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

In  her  despair  she  was  wringing  her  hands  ;  and  then 
the  words  escaped  from  her  lips,  almost  uncon- 
sciously,— 

"  Great  God,"  she  said,  "  inspire  me !  How  can  I 
bend  him?  What  must  I  say?  Jacques,  do  you  love 
me  no  longer?  For  my  sake,  if  not  for  your  own,  I 
beseech  you,  let  us  flee !  You  escape  disgrace ;  you 
secure  liberty.  Can.  nothing  touch  you?  What  do 
you  want?  Must  I  throw  myself  at  your  feet?  " 

And  she  really  let  herself  fall  at  his  feet. 

"  Flee  !  "  she  repeated  again  and  again.    "  Oh,  flee  !  " 

Like  all  truly  energetic  men,  Jacques  recovered  in 
the  very  excess  of  his  emotion  all  his  self-possession. 
Gathering  his  bewildered  thoughts  by  a  great  effort 
of  mind,  he  raised  Dionysia,  and  carried  her,  almost 
fainting,  to  the  rough  prison  bench ;  then,  kneeling 
down  by  her  side,  and  taking  her  hands,  he  said, — 

"  Dionysia,  for  pity's  sake,  come  to  yourself  and  lis- 
ten to  me.  I  am  innocent ;  and  to  flee  would  be  to  con- 
fess that  I  am  guilty." 

"  Ah !  what  does  that  matter?  " 

"  Do  you  think  that  my  escape  would  stop  the  trial  ? 
No.  Although  absent,  I  should  still  be  tried,  and  found 
guilty  without  any  opposition :  I  should  be  condemned, 
disgraced,  irrevocably  dishonored." 

"  What  does  it  matter  ?  " 

Then  he  felt  that  such  arguments  would  never  bring 
her  back  to  reason.  He  rose,  therefore,  and  said  in  a 
firm  voice, — 

"  Let  me  tell  you  what  you  do  not  know.  To  flee 
would  be  easy,  I  agree.  I  think,  as  you  do,  we  could 
reach  England  readily  enough,  and  we  might  even  take 
ship  there  without  trouble.  But  what  then  ?  The  cable 
is  faster  than  the  fastest  steamer ;  and,  upon  landing  on 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE     393 

American  soil,  I  should,  no  doubt,  be  met  by  agents 
with  orders  to  arrest  me.  But  suppose  even  I  should 
escape  this  first  danger.  Do  you  think  there  is  in  all 
this  world  an  asylum  for  incendiaries  and  murderers? 
There  is  none.  At  the  extreme  confines  of  civilization 
I  should  still  meet  with  police-agents  and  soldiers,  who, 
an  extradition  treaty  in  hand,  would  give  me  up  to  the 
government  of  my  country.  If  I  were  alone,  I  might 
possibly  escape  all  these  dangers.  But  I  should  never 
succeed  if  I  had  you  near  me,  and  Grandpapa  Chan- 
dore,  and  your  two  aunts." 

Dionysia  was  forcibly  struck  by  these  objections,  of 
which  she  had  had  no  idea.  She  said  nothing. 

"  Still,  suppose  we  might  possibly  escape  all  such 
dangers.  What  would  our  life  be!  Do  you  know 
what  it  would  mean  to  have  to  hide  and  to  run  inces- 
santly, to  have  to  avoid  the  looks  of  every  stranger, 
and  to  tremble,  day  by  day,  at  the  thought  of  discov- 
ery ?  With  me,  Dionysia,  your  existence  would  be  that 
of  the  wife  of  one  of  those  banditti  whom  the  police 
are  hunting  down  in  his  dens.  And  you  ought  to  know 
that  such  a  life  is  so  intolerable,  that  hardened  crimi- 
nals have  been  unable  to  endure  it,  and  have  given  up 
their  life  for  the  boon  of  a  night's  quiet  sleep." 

Big  tears  were  silently  rolling  down  the  poor  girl's 
cheeks.  She  murmured, — 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  Jacques.  But,  O  Jacques, 
if  they  should  condemn  you !  " 

"  Well,  I  should  at  least  have  done  my  duty.  I 
should  have  met  fate,  and  defended  my  honor.  And, 
whatever  the  sentence  may  be,  it  will  not  overthrow 
me ;  for,  as  long  as  my  heart  beats  within  me,  I  mean 
to  defend  myself.  And,  if  I  die  before  I  succeed  in 
proving  my  innocence,  I  shall  leave  it  to  you,  Diony- 


394     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

sia,  to  your  kindred,  and  to  my  friends,  to  continue  the 
struggle,  and  to  restore  my  honor." 

She  was  worthy  of  comprehending  and  of  appre- 
ciating such  sentiments. 

"  I  was  wrong,  Jacques,"  she  said,  offering  him  her 
hand :  "  you  must  forgive  me." 

She  had  risen,  and,  after  a  few  moments'  hesitation, 
was  about  to  leave  the  room,  when  Jacques  retained 
her,  saying, — 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  escape ;  but  would  not  the  people 
who  have  agreed  to  favor  my  evasion  be  willing  to 
furnish  me  the  means  for  passing  a  few  hours  outside 
of  my  prison  ?  " 

"  I  think  they  would,"  replied  the  young  girl ;  "  and, 
if  you  wish  it,  I  will  make  sure  of  it." 

"  Yes.    That  might  be  a  last  resort." 

With  these  words  they  parted,  exhorting  each  other 
to  keep  up  their  courage,  and  promising  each  other  to 
meet  again  during  the  next  days. 

Dionysia  found  her  poor  aunt  Lavarande  very  tired 
of  the  long  watch ;  and  they  hastened  home. 

"  How  pale  you  are !  "  exclaimed  M.  de  Chandore, 
when  he  saw  his  grand-daughter ;  "  and  how  red  your 
eyes  are !  What  has  happened  ?  " 

She  told  him  every  thing;  and  the  old  gentleman 
felt  chilled  to  the  marrow  of  his  bones,  when  he  found 
that  it  had  depended  on  Jacques  alone  to  carry  off  his 
grandchild.  But  he  had  not  done  so. 

"  Ah,  he  is  an  honest  man !  "  he  said. 

And,  pressing  his  lips  on  Dionysia's  brow,  he 
added, — 

"  And  you  love  him  more  than  ever?  " 

"  Alas !  "  she  replied,  "  is  he  not  more  unhappy  than 
ever?" 


WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     395 

XXI. 

"  HAVE  you  heard  the  news  ?  " 

"No:  what  is  it?" 

"  Dionysia  de  Chandore  has  been  to  see  M.  de  Bois- 
coran  in  prison." 

"Is  it  possible?" 

"  Yes,  indeed !  Twenty  people  have  seen  her  come 
back  from  there,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  older  Miss 
Lavarande.  She  went  in  at  ten  minutes  past  ten,  and 
she  did  not  come  out  till  a  quarter-past  three." 

"  Is  the  young  woman  mad  ?  " 

"And  the  aunt — what  do  you  think  of  the  aunt?  " 

"  She  must  be  as  mad  as  the  niece." 

"And  M.  de  Chandore?" 

"  He  must  have  lost  his  senses  to  allow  such  a  scan- 
dal. But  you  know  very  well,  grandfather  and  aunts 
never  had  any  will  but  Dionysia's." 

"  A  nice  training !  " 

"  And  nice  fruits  of  such  an  education !  After  such 
a  scandal,  no  man  will  be  bold  enough  to  marry  her." 

Such  were  the  comments  on  Dionysia's  visit  to 
Jacques,  when  the  news  became  known.  It  flew  at  once 
all  over  town.  The  ladies  "  in  society  "  could  not  re- 
cover from  it;  for  people  are  exceedingly  virtuous  at 
Sauveterre,  and  hence  they  claim  the  right  of  being 
exceedingly  strict  in  their  judgment.  There  is  no 
trifling  permitted  on  the  score  of  propriety. 

The  person  who  defies  public  opinion  is  lost.  Now, 
public  opinion  was  decidedly  against  Jacques  de  Bois- 
coran.  He  was  down,  and  everybody  was  ready  to 
kick  him. 

"Will  he  get  out  of  it?" 


396     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

This  problem,  which  was  day  by  day  discussed  at 
the  "  Literary  Club,"  had  called  forth  torrents  of  elo- 
quence, terrible  discussions,  and  even  one  or  two  seri- 
ous quarrels,  one  of  which  had  ended  in  a  duel.  But 
nobody  asked  any  longer, — 

"  Is  he  innocent?" 

Dr.  Seignebos's  eloquence,  the  influence  of  M.  Sen- 
eschal, and  the  cunning  plots  of  Mechinet,  had  all 
failed. 

"  Ah,  what  an  interesting  trial  it  will  be !  "  said  many 
people,  who  were  all  eagerness  to  know  who  would  be 
the  presiding  judge,  in  order  to  ask  him  for  tickets  of 
admission.  Day  by  day  the  interest  in  the  trial  became 
deeper ;  and  all  who  were  in  any  way  connected  with  it 
were  watched  with  great  curiosity.  Everybody  wanted 
to  know  what  they  were  doing,  what  they  thought,  and 
what  they  had  said. 

They  saw  in  the  absence  of  the  Marquis  de  Boiscoran 
an  additional  proof  of  Jacques's  guilt.  The  continued 
presence  of  M.  Folgat  also  created  no  small  wonder. 
His  extreme  reserve,  which  they  ascribed  to  his  exces- 
sive and  ill-placed  pride,  had  made  him  generally  dis- 
liked. And  now  they  said, — 

"  He  must  have  hardly  any  thing  to  do  in  Paris, 
that  he  can  spend  so  many  months  in  Sauveterre." 

The  editor  of  "  The  Sauveterre  Independent  "  natu- 
rally found  the  affair  a  veritable  gold-mine  for  his 
paper.  He  forgot  his  old  quarrel  with  the  editor  of 
"  The  Impartial  Journal,"  whom  he  accused  of  Bona- 
partism,  and  who  retaliated  by  calling  him  a  Commun- 
ist. Each  day  brought,  in  addition  to  the  usual  mention 
under  the  "  local  "  head,  some  article  on  the  "  Bois- 
coran Case."  He  wrote, — 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     397 

"  The  health  of  Count  C.,  instead  of  improving,  is 
declining  visibly.  He  used  to  get  up  occasionally  when 
he  first  came  to  Sauveterre;  and  now  he  rarely  leaves 
his  bed.  The  wound  in  the  shoulder,  which  at  first 
seemed  to  be  the  least  dangerous,  has  suddenly  become 
much  inflamed,  owing  to  the  tropical  .heat  of  the  last 
days.  At  one  time  gangrene  was  apprehended,  and  it 
was  feared  that  amputation  would  become  necessary. 
Yesterday  Dr.  S.  seemed  to  be  much  disturbed. 

"  And,  as  misfortunes  never  come  singly,  the  young- 
est daughter  of  Count  C.  is  very  ill.  She  had  the 
measles  at  the  time  of  the  fire ;  and  the  fright,  the  cold, 
and  the  removal,  have  brought  on  a  relapse,  which 
may  be  dangerous. 

"  Amid  all  these  cruel  trials,  the  Countess  C.  is  ad- 
mirable in  her  devotion,  her  courage,  and  her  resigna- 
tion. Whenever  she  leaves  the  bedside  of  her  dear  pa- 
tients to  pray  at  church  for  them,  she  is  received  with 
the  most  touching  sympathy  and  the  most  sincere  ad- 
miration by  the  whole  population." 

"  Ah,  that  wretch  Boiscoran !  "  cried  the  good  peo- 
ple of  Sauveterre  when  they  read  such  an  article. 

The  next  day,  they  found  this, — 

"  We  have  'sent  to  the  hospital  to  inquire  from  the 
lady  superior  how  the  poor  idiot  is,  who  has  taken  such 
a  prominent  part  in  the  bloody  drama  at  Valpinson. 
His  mental  condition  remains  unchanged  since  he  has 
been  examined  by  experts.  The  spark  of  intelligence 
which  the  crime  had  elicited  seems  to  be  extinguished 
entirely  and  forever.  It  is  impossible  to  obtain  a  word 
from  him.  He  hardly  recognizes  the  persons  who  at- 
tend to  him.  He  is,  however,  not  locked  up.  Inoffen- 
sive and  gentle,  like  a  poor  animal  that  has  lost  its 


398     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE 

master,  he  wanders  mournfully  through  the  courts  and 
gardens  of  the  hospital.  Dr.  S.,  who  used  to  take  a 
lively  interest  in  him,  hardly  ever  sees  him  now. 

"  It  was  thought  at  one  time,  that  C.  would  be  sum- 
moned to  give  evidence  in  the  approaching  trial.  We 
are  informed  by  high  authority,  that  such  a  dramatic 
scene  must  not  be  expected  to  take  place.  C.  will  not 
appear  before  the  jury." 

"  Certainly,  Cocoleu's  deposition  must  have  been  an 
interposition  of  Providence,"  said  people  who  were  not 
far  from  believing  that  it  was  a  genuine  miracle. 

The  next  day  the  editor  took  M.  Galpin  in  hand. 

"  M.  G.,"  he  wrote,  "  the  eminent  magistrate,  is  very 
unwell  just  now,  and  very  naturally  so  after  an  investi- 
gation of  such  length  and  importance  as  that  which 
preceded  the  Boiscoran  trial.  We  are  told  that  he  only 
awaits  the  decree  of  the  court,  to  ask  for  a  furlough 
and  to  go  to  one  of  the  rural  stations  of  the  Pyrenees." 

Then  came  Jacques's  turn, — 

"  M.  J.  de  B.  stands  his  imprisonment  better  than 
could  be  expected.  According  to  direct  information, 
his  health  is  excellent,  and  his  spirits  do  not  seem  to 
have  suffered.  He  reads  much,  and  spends  part  of  the 
night  in  preparing  his  defence,  and  making  notes  for 
his  counsel." 

Then  came,  from  day  to  day,  smaller  items, — 

"  M.  J.  de  B.  is  no  longer  in  close  confinement." 

Or,- 

"  M.  de  B.  had  this  morning  an  interview  with  his 
counsel,  M.  M.,  the  most  eminent  member  of  our  bar, 
and  M.  F.,  a  young  but  distinguished  advocate  from 
Paris.  The  conference  lasted  several  hours.  We  ab- 
stain from  giving  details ;  but  our  readers  will  under- 
stand the  reserve  required  in  the  case  of  an  accused 


WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     399 

who  insists  upon  protesting  energetically  that  he  is  in- 
nocent." 

And  again, — 

"  M.  de  B.  was  yesterday  visited  by  his  mother." 

Or,  finally, — 

"  We  hear  at  the  last  moment  that  the  Marchioness 
de  B.  and  M.  Folgat  have  left  for  Paris.  Our  corre- 
spondent in  P.  writes  us  that  the  decree  of  the  court 
will  not  be  delayed  much  longer." 

Never  had  "  The  Sauveterre  Independent "  been 
read  with  so  much  interest.  And,  as  everybody  en- 
deavored to  be  better  informed  than  his  neighbor,  quite 
a  number  of  idle  men  had  assumed  the  duty  of  watch- 
ing Jacques's  friends,  and  spent  their  days  in  trying 
to  find  out  what  was  going  on  at  M.  de  Chandore's 
house.  Thus  it  came  about,  that,  on  the  evening  of 
Dionysia's  visit  to  Jacques,  the  street  was  full  of  curi- 
ous people.  Towards  half-past  ten,  they  saw  M.  de 
Chandore's  carriage  come  out  of  the  courtyard,  and 
draw  up  at  the  door.  At  eleven  o'clock  M.  de  Chan- 
dore  and  Dr.  Seignebos  got  in,  the  coachman  whipped 
the  horse,  and  they  drove  off. 

"Where  can  they  be  going?"  asked  they. 

They  followed  the  carriage.  The  two  gentlemen 
drove  to  the  station.  They  had  received  a  telegram, 
and  were  expecting  the  return  of  the  marchioness  and 
M.  Folgat,  accompanied,  this  time,  by  the  old  marquis. 

They  reached  there  much  too  soon.  The  local 
branch  railway  which  goes  to  Sauveterre  is  not  famous 
for  regularity,  and  still  reminds  its  patrons  occasionally 
of  the  old  habits  of  stage-coaches,  when  the  driver  or 
the  conductor  had,  at  the  last  moment,  to  stop  to  pick 
up  something  they  had  forgotten.  At  a  quarter-past 
midnight  the  train,  which  ought  to  have  been  there 


400     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

twenty  minutes  before,  had  not  yet  been  signalled. 
Every  thing  around  was  silent  and  deserted.  Through 
the  windows  the  station-master  might  be  seen  fast 
asleep  in  his  huge  leather  chair.  Clerks  and  porters 
all  were  asleep,  stretched  out  on  the  benches  of  the 
waiting-room.  But  people  are  accustomed  to  such  de- 
lays at  Sauveterre ;  they  are  'prepared  for  being  kept 
waiting:  and  the  doctor  and  M.  de  Chandore  were 
walking  up  and  down  the  platform,  being  neither  as- 
tonished nor  impatient  at  the  irregularity.  Nor  would 
they  have  been  much  surprised  if  they  had  been  told 
that  they  were  closely  watched  all  the  time :  they  knew 
their  good  town.  Still  it  was  so.  Two  curious  men, 
more  obstinate  than  the  others,  had  jumped  into  the 
omnibus  which  runs  between  the  station  and  the  town ; 
and  now,  standing  a  little  aside,  they  said  to  each 
other, — 

"  I  say,  what  can  they  be  waiting  for?'* 

At  last  towards  one  o'clock,  a  bell  rang,  and  the 
station  seemed  to  start  into  life.  The  station-master 
opened  his  door,  the  porters  stretched  themselves  and 
rubbed  their  eyes,  oaths  were  heard,  doors  slammed, 
and  the  large  hand-barrows  came  in  sight. 

Then  a  low  thunder-like  noise  came  nearer  and 
nearer;  and  almost  instantly  a  fierce  red  light  at  the 
far  end  of  the  track  shone  out  in  the  dark  night  like 
a  ball  of  fire.  M.  de  Chandore  and  the  doctor  has- 
tened to  the  waiting-room. 

The  train  stopped.  A  door  opened,  and  the  mar- 
chioness appeared,  leaning  on  M.  Folgat's  arm.  The 
marquis,  a  travelling-bag  in  hand,  followed  next. 

"  That  was  it !  "  said  the  volunteer  spies,  who  had 
flattened  their  noses  against  the  window-panes. 

And,  as  the  train  brought  no  other  passengers,  they 


-  WITHIN    AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     401 

succeeded  in  making  the  omnibus  conductor  start  at 
once,  eager  as  they  were  to  proclaim  the  arrival  of 
the  prisoner's  father. 

The  hour  was  unfavorable :  everybody  was  asleep ; 
but  they  did  not  give  up  the  hope  of  finding  somebody 
yet  at  the  club.  People  stay  up  very  late  at  the  club, 
for  there  is  play  going  on  there,  and  at  times  pretty 
heavy  play :  you  can  lose  your  five  hundred  francs  quite 
readily  there.  Thus  the  indefatigable  news-hunters 
had  a  fair  chance  of  finding  open  ears  for  their  great 
piece  of  news.  And  yet,  if  they  had  been  less  eager  to 
spread  it,  they  might  have  witnessed,  perhaps  not  en- 
tirely unmoved,  this  first  interview  between  M.  de 
Chandore  and  the  Marquis  de  Boiscoran. 

By  a  natural  impulse  they  had  both  hastened  for- 
ward, and  shook  hands  in  the  most  energetic  manner. 
Tears  stood  in  their  eyes.  They  opened  their  lips  to 
speak;  but  they  said  nothing.  Besides,  there  was  no 
need  of  words  between  them.  That  close  embrace  had 
told  Jacques's  father  clearly  enough  what  Dionysia's 
grandfather  must  have  suffered.  They  remained  thus 
standing  motionless,  looking  at  each  other,  when  Dr. 
Seignebos,  who  could  not  be  still  for  any  length  of  time, 
came  up,  and  asked, — 

"  The  trunks  are  on  the  carriage :  shall  we  go  ?  " 

They  left  the  station.  The  night  was  clear;  and  on 
the  horizon,  above  the  dark  mass  of  the  sleeping  town, 
there  rose  against  the  pale-blue  sky  the  two  towers  of 
the  old  castle,  which  now  served  as  prison  to  Sauve- 
terre. 

"  That  is  the  place  where  my  Jacques  is  kept,"  mur- 
mured the  marquis.  "  There  my  son  is  imprisoned, 
accused  of  horrible  crimes." 

"  We  will  get  him  out  of  it,"  said  the  doctor  cheer- 


402     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

fully,  as  he  helped  the  old  gentleman  into  the  carriage. 

But  in  vain  did  he  try,  during  the  drive,  to  rouse,  as 
he  called  it,  the  spirits  of  his  companions.  His  hopes 
found  no  echo  in  their  distressed  hearts. 

M.  Folgat  inquired  after  Dionysia,  whom  he  had 
been  surprised  not  to  see  at  the  station.  M.  de  Chan- 
dore replied  that  she  had  staid  at  home  with  the  Misses 
Lavarande,  to  keep  M.  Magloire  company;  and  that 
was  all. 

There  are  situations  in  which  it  is  painful  to  talk. 
The  marquis  had  enough  to  do  to  suppress  the  spas- 
modic sobs  which  now  and  then  would  rise  in  his 
throat.  He  was  upset  by  the  thought  that  he  was  at 
Sauveterre.  Whatever  may  be  said  to  the  contrary, 
distance  does  weaken  our  emotions.  Shaking  hands 
with  M.  de  Chandore  in  person  had  moved  him  more 
deeply  than  all  the  letters  he  had  received  for  a  month. 
And  when  he  saw  Jacques's  prison  from  afar,  he  had 
the  first  clear  notion  of  the  horrible  tortures  endured 
by  his  son.  The  marchioness  was  utterly  exhausted: 
she  felt  as  if  all  the  springs  in  her  system  were  broken. 

M.  de  Chandore  trembled  when  he  looked  at  them, 
and  saw  how  they  all  were  on  the  point  of  succumbing. 
If  they  despaired,  what  could  he  hope  for, — he,  who 
knew  how  indissolubly  Dionysia's  fate  in  life  was  con- 
nected with  Jacques  ? 

At  length  the  carriage  stopped  before  his  house. 
The  door  opened  instantly,  and  the  marchioness  found 
herself  in  Dionysia's  arms,  and  soon  after  comfortably 
seated  in  an  easy-chair.  The  others  had  followed  her. 
It  was  past  two  o'clock ;  but  every  minute  now  was  val- 
uable. Arranging  his  spectacles,  Dr.  Seignebos  said, — 

"  I  propose  that  we  exchange  our  information.  I, 
for 'my  part,  I  am  still  at  the  same  point.  But  you  know 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     403 

my  views.  I  do  not  give  them  up.  Cocoleu  is  an  im- 
postor, and  it  shall  be  proved.  I  appear  to  notice  him 
no  longer;  but,  in  reality,  I  watch  him  more  Closely 
than  ever." 

Dionysia  interrupted  him,  saying, — 

"  Before  any  thing  is  decided,  there  is  one  fact  which 
you  all  ought  to  know.  Listen." 

Pale  like  death,  fpr  it  cost  her  a  great  struggle  to 
reveal  thus  the  secret  of  her  heart,  but  with  a  voice 
full  of  energy,  and  an  eye  full  of  fire,  she  told  them 
what  she  had  already  confessed  to  her  grandfather; 
viz.,  the  propositions  she  had  made  to  Jacques,  and  his 
obstinate  refusal  to  accede  to  them. 

"  Well  done,  madam !  "  said  Dr.  Seignebos,  full  of 
enthusiasm.  "  Well  done !  Jacques  is  very  unfortu- 
nate, and  still  he  is  to  be  envied." 

Dionysia  finished  her  recital.  Then,  turning  with  a 
triumphant  air  to  M.  Magloire,  she  added, — 

"  After  that,  is  there  any  one  yet  who  could  believe 
that  Jacques  is  a  vile  assassin  ?  " 

The  eminent  advocate  of  Sauveterre  was  not  one  of 
those  men  who  prize  their  opinions  more  highly  than 
truth  itself. 

"  I  confess,"  he  said,  "  that,  if  I  were  to  go  and  see 
Jacques  to-morrow  for  the  first  time,  I  should  not 
speak  to  him  as  I  did  before." 

"  And  I,"  exclaimed  the  Marquis  de  Boiscoran, — "  I 
declare  that  I  answer  for  my  son  as  for  myself,  and  I 
mean  to  tell  him  so  to-morrow." 

Then  turning  towards  his  wife,  and  speaking  so  low, 
that  she  alone  could  hear  him,  he  added, — 

"  And  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  those  suspicions 
which  now  fill  me  with  horror." 

But    the    marchioness    had    no    strength    left:    she 


4o4     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

fainted,  and  had  to  be  removed,  accompanied  by  Dio- 
nysia  and  the  Misses  Lavarande.  As  soon  as  they  were 
out  of  the  room,  Dr.  Seignebos  locked  the  door,  rested 
his  elbow  on  the  chimney,  and,  taking  off  his  spectacles 
to  wipe  them,  said  to  M.  Folgat, — 

"  Now  we  can  speak  freely.  What  news  do  you 
bring  us  ?  " 

XXII. 

IT  had  just  struck  eleven  o'clock,  when  the  jailer, 
Blangin,  entered  Jacques's  cell  in  great  excitement,  and 
said, — 

"  Sir,  your  father  is  down  stairs." 

The  prisoner  jumped  up,  thunderstruck. 

The  night-before  he  had  received  a  note  from  M.  de 
Chandore,  informing  him  of  the  marquis's  arrival ;  and 
his  whole  time  had  since  been  spent  in  preparing  him- 
self for  the  interview.  How  would  it  be?  He  had 
nothing  by  which  to  judge.  He  had  therefore  deter- 
mined to  be  quite  reserved.  And,  whilst  he  was  fol- 
lowing Blangin  along  the  dismal  passage  and  down  the 
interminable  steps,  he  was  busily  composing  respectful 
phrases,  and  trying  to  look  self-possessed. 

But,  before  he  could  utter  a  single  word,  he  was  in 
his  father's  arms.  He  felt  himself  pressed  against  his 
heart,  and  heard  him  stammer, — 

"  Jacques,  my  dear  son,  my  unfortunate  child !  " 

In  all  his  life,  long  and  stormy  as  it  had  been,  the 
marquis  had  not  been  tried  so  severely.  Drawing 
Jacques  to  one  of  the  parlor-windows,  and  leaning 
back  a  little,  so  as  to  see  him  better,  he  was  amazed 
how  he  could  ever  have  doubted  his  son.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  he  was  standing  there  himself.  He  recog- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     405 

nized  his  own  features  and  carriage,  his  own  frank  but 
rather  haughty  expression,  his  own  clear,  bright  eye. 

Then,  suddenly  noticing  details,  he  was  shocked  to 
see  Jacques  so  much  reduced.  He  found  him  looking 
painfully  pale,  and  he  actually  discovered  at  the  temples 
more  than  one  silvery  hair  amid  his  thick  black  curls. 

"  Poor  child !  "  he  said.  "  How  you  must  have  suf- 
fered !  " 

"  I  thought  I  should  lose  my  senses,"  replied  Jacques 
simply. 

And  with  a  tremor  in  his  voice,  he  asked, — 

"  But,  dear  father,  why  did  you  give  me  no  sign  of 
life  ?  Why  did  you  stay  away  so  long  ?  " 

The  marquis  was  not  unprepared  for  such  a  question. 
But  how  could  he  answer  it?  Could  he  ever  tell 
Jacques  the  true  secret  of  his  hesitation?  Turning  his 
eyes  aside,  he  answered, — 

"  I  hoped  I  should  be  able  to  serve  you  better  by 
remaining  in  Paris."  But  his  embarrassment  was  too 
evident  to  escape  Jacques. 

"  You  did  not  doubt  your  own  child,  father  ?  "  he 
asked  sadly. 

"  Never !  "  cried  the  marquis,  "  I  never  doubted  a 
moment.  Ask  your  mother,  and  she  will  tell  you  that 
it  was  this  proud  assurance  I  felt  which  kept  me  from 
coming  down  with  her.  When  I  heard  of  what  they 
accused  you,  I  said  '  It  is  absurd ! ' : 

Jacques  shook  his  head,  and  said, — 

"  The  accusation  was  absurd ;  and  yet  you  see  what 
it  has  brought  me  to." 

Two  big  tears,  which  he  could  no  longer  retain,  burnt 
in  the  eyes  of  the  old  gentleman. 

"  You  blame  me,  Jacques,"  he  said.  "  You  blame 
your  father." 


406     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

There  is  not  a  man  alive  who  could  see  his  father 
shed  tears,  and  not  feel  his  heart  melt  within  him. 
All  the  resolutions  Jacques  had  formed  vanished  in  an 
instant.  Pressing  his  father's  hand  in  his  own,  he 
said, — 

"  No,  I  do  not  blame  you,  father.  And  still  I  have 
no  words  to  tell  you  how  much  your  absence  has 
added  to  my  sufferings.  I  thought  I  was  abandoned, 
disowned." 

For  the  first  time  since  his  imprisonment,  the  un- 
fortunate man  found  a  heart  to  whom  he  could  con- 
fide all  the  bitterness  that  overflowed  in  his  own  heart. 
With  his  mother  and  with  Dionysia,  honor  forbade 
him  to  show  his  despair.  The  incredulity  of  M.  Ma- 
gloire  had  made  all  confidence  impossible;  and  M. 
Folgat,  although  as  sympathetic  as  man  could  be, 
was,  after  all,  a  perfect  stranger. 

But  now  he  had  near  him  a  friend,  the  dearest  and 
most  precious  friend  that  a  man  can  ever  have, — his 
father:  now  he  had  nothing  to  fear. 

"  Is  there  a  human  being  in  this  world,"  he  said, 
"  whose  misfortunes  equal  mine  ?  To  be  innocent, 
and  not  to  be  able  to  prove  it !  To  know  the  guilty 
one,  and  not  to  dare  mention  the  name.  Ah !  at  first 
I  did  not  take  in  the  whole  horror  of  my  situation.  I 
was  frightened,  to  be  sure ;  but  I  had  recovered,  think- 
ing that  surely  justice  would  not  be  slow  in  discover- 
ing the  truth.  Justice !  It  was  my  friend  Galpin  who 
represented  it,  and  he  cared  little  enough  for  truth : 
his  only  aim  was  to  prove  that  the  man  whom  he 
accused  was  the  guilty  man.  Read  the  papers,  father, 
and  you  will  see  how  I  have  been  victimized  by  the 
most  unheard-of  combination  of  circumstances. 
Every  thing  is  against  me.  Never  has  that  mysteri- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     407 

ous,  blind,  and  absurd  power  manifested  itself  so 
clearly, — that  awful  power  which  we  call  fate. 

"  First  I  was  kept  by  a  sense  of  honor  from  men- 
tioning the  name  of  the  Countess  Claudieuse,  and  then 
by  prudence.  The  first  time  I  mentioned  it  to  M.  Ma- 
gloire,  he  told  me  I  lied.  Then  I  thought  every  thing 
lost.  I  saw  no  other  end  but  the  court,  and,  after 
the  trial,  the  galleys  or  the  scaffold.  I  wanted  to  kill 
myself.  My  friends  made  me  understand  that  I  did 
not  belong  to  myself,  and  that,  as  long  as  I  had  a 
spark  of  energy  and  a  ray  of  intelligence  left  me,  I 
had  no  right  to  dispose  of  my  life." 

"  Poor,  poor  child !  "  said  the  marquis.  "  No,  you 
have  no  such  right." 

"  Yesterday,"  continued  Jacques,  "  Dionysia  came 
to  see  me.  Do  you  know  what  brought  her  here  ?  She 
offered  to  flee  with  me.  Father,  that  temptation  was 
terrible.  Once  free,  and  Dionysia  by  my  side,  what 
cared  I  for  the  world?  She  insisted,  like  the  match- 
less girl  that  she  is;  and  look  there,  there,  on  the 
spot  where  you  now  stand,  she  threw  herself  at  my 
feet,  imploring  me  to  flee.  I  doubt  whether  I  can 
save  my  life;  but  I  remain  here." 

He  felt  deeply  moved,  and  sank  upon  the  rough 
bench,  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands,  perhaps  to  con- 
ceal his  tears. 

Suddenly,  however,  he  was  seized  with  one  of  those 
attacks  of  rage  which  had  come  to  him  but  too  often 
during  his  imprisonment,  and  he  exclaimed, — 

"  But  what  have  I  done  to  deserve  such  fearful 
punishment?" 

The  brow  of  the  marquis  suddenly  darkened;  and 
he  replied  solemnly, — 

"  You  have  coveted  your  neighbor's  wife,  my  son." 


4o8     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

Jacques  shrugged  his  shoulders.    He  said, — 

"  I  loved  the  Countess  Claudieuse,  and  she  loved 
me." 

"  Adultery  is  a  crime,  Jacques." 

"  A  crime  ?  Magloire  said  the  same  thing.  But, 
father,  do  you  really  think  so?  Then  it  is  a  crime 
which  has  nothing  appalling  about  it,  to  which  every 
thing  invites  and  encourages,  of  which  everybody 
boasts,  and  at  which  the  world  smiles.  The  law,  it  is 
true,  gives  the  husband  the  right  over  life  and  death ; 
but,  if  you  appeal  to  the  law,  it  gives  the  guilty  man 
six  months'  imprisonment,  or  makes  him  pay  a  few 
thousand  francs." 

Ah,  if  he  had  known,  the  unfortunate  man ! 

"  Jacques,"  said  the  marquis,  "  the  Countess  Clau- 
dieuse hints,  as  you  say,  that  one  of  her  daughters, 
the  youngest,  is  your  child  ?  " 

"  That  may  be  so." 

The  Marquis  de  Boiscoran  shuddered.  Then  he 
exclaimed  bitterly, — 

"That  may  be  so!  You  say  that  carelessly,  indif- 
ferently, madman!  Did  you  never  think  of  the  grief 
Count  Claudieuse  would  feel  if  he  should  learn  the 
truth  ?  And  even  if  he  merely  suspected  it !  Can  you 
not  comprehend  that  such  a  suspicion  is  quite  suffi- 
cient to  imbitter  a  whole  life,  to  ruin  the  life  of  thai 
girl  ?  Have  you  never  told  yourself  that  such  a  doubt 
inflicts  a  more  atrocious  punishment  than  any  thing 
you  have  yet  suffered  ?  " 

He  paused.  A  few  words  more,  and  he  would  have 
betrayed  his  secret.  Checking  his  excitement  by  an 
heroic  effort,  he  said, — 

"  But  I  did  not  come  here  to  discuss  this  question : 
I  came  to  tell  you,  that,  whatever  may  happen,  your 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     409 

father  will  stand  by  you,  and  that,  if  you  must  un- 
dergo the  disgrace  of  appearing  in  court,  I  will  take 
a  seat  by  your  side." 

In  spite  of  his  own  great  trouble,  Jacques  had  not 
been  able  to  avoid  seeing  his  father's  unusual  excite- 
ment and  his  sudden  vehemence.  For  a  second,  he 
had  a  vague  perception  of  the  truth;  but,  before  the 
suspicion  could  assume  any  shape,  it  had  vanished 
before  this  promise  which  his  father  made,  to  face  by 
his  side  the  overwhelming  humiliation  of  a  judgment 
in  court, — a  promise  full  of  divine  self-abnegation  and 
paternal  love.  His  gratitude  burst  forth  in  the 
words, — 

"  Ah,  father !  I  ought  to  ask  your  pardon  for  ever 
having  doubted  your  heart  for  a  moment." 

M.  de  Boiscoran  tried  his  best  to  recover  his  self- 
possession.  At  last  he  said  in  an  earnest  voice, — 

"  Yes,  I  love  you,  my  son ;  and  still  you  must  not 
make  me  out  more  of  a  hero  than  I  am.  I  still  hope 
we  may  be  spared  the  appearance  in  court." 

"  Has  any  thing  new  been  discovered  ?  " 

"  M.  Folgat  has  found  some  traces  which  justify 
legitimate  hopes,  although,  as  yet,  no  real  success 
has  been  achieved." 

Jacques  looked  rather  discouraged. 

"  Traces  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Be  patient.  They  are  feeble  traces,  I  admit,  and 
such  as  could  not  be  produced  in  court ;  but  from  day 
to  day  they  may  become  decisive.  And  already  they 
have  had  one  good  effect:  they  have  brought  us 
back  M.  Magloire." 

"O  God!     Could  I  really  be  saved?" 

"  I  shall  leave  to  M.  Folgat,"  continued  the  mar- 
quis, "  the  satisfaction  of  telling  you  the  result  of  his 


4io     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

efforts.  He  can  explain  their  bearing  better  than  I 
could.  And  you  will  not  have  long  to  wait ;  for  last 
night,  or  rather  this  morning,  when  we  separated,  he 
and  M.  Magloire  agreed  to  meet  here  at  the  prison, 
before  two  o'clock." 

A  few  minutes  later  a  rapid  step  approached  in  the 
passage;  and  Trumence  appeared,  the  prisoner  of 
whom  Blangin  had  made  an  assistant,  and  whom 
Mechinet  had  employed  to  carry  Jacques's  letters  to 
Dionysia.  He  was  a  tall,  well-made  man  of  twenty- 
five  or  six  years,  whose  large  mouth  and  small  eyes 
were  perpetually  laughing.  A  vagabond  without 
hearth  or  home,  Trumence  had  once  been  a  land- 
owner. At  the  death  of  his  parents,  when  he  was  only 
eighteen  years  old,  Trumence  had  come  into  posses- 
sion of  a  house  surrounded  by  a  yard,  a  garden,  sev- 
eral acres  of  land,  and  a  salt  meadow ;  all  worth  about 
fifteen  thousand  francs.  Unfortunately  the  time  for  the 
conscription  was  near.  Like  many  young  men  of  that 
district,  Trumence  believed  in  witchcraft,  and  had 
gone  to  buy  a  charm,  which  cost  him  fifty  francs.  It 
consisted  of  three  tamarind-branches  gathered  on 
Christmas  Eve,  and  tied  together  by  a  magic  number 
of  hairs  drawn  from  a  dead  man's  head.  Having 
sewed  this  charm  into  his  waistcoat,  Trumence  had 
gone  to  town,  and,  plunging  his  hand  boldly  into  the 
urn,  had  drawn  number  three.  This  was  unexpected. 
But  as  he  had  a  great  horror  of  military  service,  and, 
well-made  as  he  was,  felt  quite  sure  that  he  would 
not  be  rejected,  he  determined  to  employ  a  chance 
much  more  certain  to  succeed ;  namely,  to  borrow 
money  in  order  to  buy  a  substitute. 

As  he  was  a  land-owner,  he  found  no  difficulty  in 
meeting  with  an  obliging  person,  who  consented  to 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     411 

lend  him  for  two  years  thirty-five  hundred  francs,  in 
return  for  a  first  mortgage  on  his  property.  When  the 
papers  were  signed,  and  Trumence  had  the  money  in 
his  pocket,  he  set  out  for  Rochefort,  where  dealers  in 
substitutes  abounded ;  and  for  the  sum  of  two  thou- 
sand francs,  exclusive  of  some  smaller  items,  they 
furnished  him  a  substitute  of  the  best  quality. 

Delighted  with  the  operation,  Trumence  was  about 
to  return  home,  when  his  evil  star  led  him  to  sup  at 
his  inn  with  a  countryman,  a  former  schoolmate,  who 
was  now  a  sailor  on  board  a  coal-barge.  Of  course, 
countrymen  when  they  meet  must  drink.  They  did 
drink;  and,  as  the  sailor  very  soon  scented  the  twelve 
hundred  francs  which  still  remained  in  Trumence's 
pockets,  he  swore  that  he  was  going  to  have  a  jolly 
time,  and  would  not  return  on  board  his  barge  as 
long  as  there  remained  a  cent  in  his  friend's  pocket. 
So  it  happened,  that,  after  a  fortnight's  carouse,  the 
sailor  was  arrested  and  put  in  jail;  and  Trumence 
was  compelled  to  borrow  five  francs  from  the  stage- 
driver  to  enable  him  to  get  home. 

This  fortnight  was  decisive  for  his  life.  During 
these  days  he  had  lost  all  taste  for  work,  and  ac- 
quired a  real  passion  for  taverns  where  they  played 
with  greasy  cards.  After  his  return  he  tried  to  con- 
tinue this  jolly  life  ;  and,  to  do  so,  he  made  more  debts. 
He  sold,  piece  after  piece,  all  he  possessed  that  was 
salable,  down  to  his  mattress  and  his  tools.  This  was 
not  the  way  to  repay  the  thirty-five  hundred  francs 
which  he  owed.  When  pay-day  came,  the  creditor, 
seeing  that  his  security  was  diminishing  every  day, 
lost  no  time.  Before  Trumence  was  well  aware  of 
what  was  going  on,  an  execution  was  in  the  house; 
his  lands  were  sold;  and  one  fine  day  he  found  him- 


4i2     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

self  in  the  street,  possessing  literally  nothing  in  the 
world  but  the  wretched  clothes  on  his  back. 

He  might  easily  have  found  employment;  for  he 
was  a  good  workman,  and  people  were  fond  of  him 
in  spite  of  all.  But  he  was  even  more  afraid  of  work 
than  he  was  fond  of  drink.  Whenever  want  pressed 
too  hard,  he  worked  a  few  days;  but,  as  soon  as 
he  had  earned  ten  francs,  good-by !  Off  he  went, 
lounging  by  the  road-side,  talking  with  the  wagoners, 
or  loafing  about  the  villages,  and  watching  for  one  of 
those  kind  topers,  who,  rather  than  drink  alone,  in- 
vite the  first-comer.  Trumence  boasted  of  being  well 
known  all  along  the  coast,  and  even  far  into  the 
department.  And  what  was  most  surprising  was  that 
people  did  not  blame  him  much  for  his  idleness.  Good 
housewives  in  the  country  would,  it  is  true,  greet  him 
with  a  "  Well,  what  do  you  want  here,  good-for-noth- 
ing ?  "  But  they  would  rarely  refuse  him  a  bowl  of 
soup  or  a  glass  of  white  wine.  His  unchanging  good- 
humor,  and  his  obliging  disposition,  explained  this 
forbearance.  This  man,  who  would  refuse  a  well- 
paid  job,  was  ever  ready  to  lend  a  hand  for  nothing. 
And  he  was  handy  at  every  thing,  by  land  and  by 
water,  he  called  it,  so  that  the  farmer  whose  business 
was  pressing,  and  the  fisherman  in  his  boat  who 
wanted  help,  appealed  alike  to  Trumence. 

The  mischief,  however,  is,  that  this  life  of  rural 
beggary,  if  it  has  its  good  days,  also  has  its  evil  times. 
On  certain  days,  Trumence  could  not  find  either  kind- 
hearted  topers  or  hospitable  housewives.  Hunger, 
however,  was  ever  on  hand ;  then  he  had  to  become 
a  marauder;  dig  some  potatoes,  and  cook  them  in  a 
corner  of  a  wood,  or  pilfer  the  orchards.  And  if  he 
found  neither  potatoes  in  the  fields,  nor  apples  in  the 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     413 

orchards,  what  could  he  do  but  climb  a  fence,  or 
scale  a  wall? 

Relatively  speaking,  Trumence  was  an  honest  man, 
and  incapable  of  stealing  a  piece  of  money ;  but  vege- 
tables, fruits,  chickens — 

Thus  it  had  come  about  that  he  had  been  arrested 
twice,  and  condemned  to  several  days'  imprisonment; 
and  each  time  he  had  vowed  solemnly  that  he  would 
never  be  caught  at  it  again,  and  that  he  was  going 
to  work  hard.  And  yet  he  had  been  caught  again. 

The  poor  fellow  had  told  his  misfortunes  to 
Jacques ;  and  Jacques,  who  owed  it  to  him  that  he 
could,  when  still  in  close  confinement,  correspond  with 
Dionysia,  felt  very  kindly  towards  him.  Hence,  when 
he  saw  him  come  up  very  respectful,  and  cap  in  hand, 
he  asked, — 

"What  is  it,  Trumence?" 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  vagrant,  "  M.  Blangin  sends  you 
word  that  the  two  advocates  are  coming  up  to  your 
room." 

Once  more  the  marquis  embraced  his  son,  saying, — • 

"  Do  not  keep  them  waiting,  and  keep  up  your 
courage." 


XXIII. 

THE  Marquis  de  Boiscoran  had  not  been  mistaken 
about  M.  Magloire.  Much  shaken  by  Dionysia's  state- 
ment, he  had  been  completely  overcome  by  M.  Folgat's 
explanations;  and,  when  he  now  came  to  the  jail,  it 
was  with  a  determination  to  prove  Jacques's  inno- 
cence. 

"  But  I  doubt  very  much  whether  he  will  ever  for- 


4U     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

give  me  for  my  incredulity,"  he  said  to  M.  Folgat 
while  they  were  wating  for  the  prisoner  in  his  cell. 

Jacques  came  in,  still  deeply  moved  by  the  scene 
with  his  father.  M.  Magloire  went  up  to  him,  and 
said, — 

"  I  have  never  been  able  to  conceal  my  thoughts, 
Jacques.  When  I  thought  you  guilty,  and  felt  sure 
that  you  accused  the  Countess  Claudieuse  falsely,  I 
told  you  so  with  almost  brutal  candor.  I  have  since 
found  out  my  error,  and  am  now  convinced  of  the 
truth  of  your  statement :  so  I  come  and  tell  you  as 
frankly,  Jacques,  I  was  wrong  to  have  had  more  faith 
in  the  reputation  of  a  woman  than  in  the  words  of  a 
friend.  Will  you  give  me  your  hand  ?  " 

The  prisoner  grasped  his  hand  with  a  profusion  of 
joy,  and  cried, — 

"  Since  you  believe  in  my  innocence,  others  may 
believe  in  me  too,  and  my  salvation  is  drawing  near." 

The  melancholy  faces  of  the  two  advocates  told  him 
that  he  was  rejoicing  too  soon.  His  features  ex- 
pressed his  grief;  but  he  said  with  a  firm  voice, — 

"  Well,  I  see  that  the  struggle  will  be  a  hard  one, 
and  that  the  result  is  still  uncertain.  Never  mind. 
You  may  be  sure  I  will  not  give  way." 

In  the  meantime  M.  Folgat  had  spread  out  on  the 
table  all  the  papers  he  had  brought  with  him, — copies 
furnished  by  Mechinet,  and  notes  taken  during  his 
rapid  journey. 

"  First  of  all,  my  dear  client,"  he  said,  "  I  must  in- 
form you  of  what  has  been  done." 

And  when  he  had  stated  every  thing,  down  to  the 
minutest  details  of  what  Goudar  and  he  had  done, 
he  said, — 

"  Let  us  sum  up.    We  are  able  to  prove  three  things : 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     415 

i.  That  the  house  in  Vine  Street  belongs  to  you,  and 
that  Sir  Francis  Burnett,  who  is  known  there,  and 
you  are  one ;  2.  That  you  were  visited  in  this  house 
by  a  lady,  who,  from  all  the  precautions  she  took,  had 
powerful  reasons  to  remain  unknown;  3.  That  the 
visits  of  this  lady  took  place  at  certain  epochs  every 
year,  which  coincided  precisely  with  the  journeys 
which  the  Countess  Claudieuse  yearly  made  to  Paris." 

The  great  advocate  of  Sauveterre  expressed  his 
assent. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  all  this  is  fully  established." 

"  For  ourselves,  we  have  another  certainty, — that 
Suky  Wood,  the  servant  of  the  false  Sir  Francis  Bur- 
nett, has  watched  the  mysterious  lady;  that  she  has 
seen  her,  and  consequently  would  know  her  again." 

"  True,  that  appears  from  the  deposition  of  the 
girl's  friend." 

"  Consequently,  if  we  discover  Suky  Wood,  the 
Countess  Claudieuse  is  unmasked." 

"  If  we  discover  her,"  said  M.  Magloire.  "  And 
here,  unfortunately,  we  enter  into  the  region  of  sup- 
positions." 

"  Suppositions !  "  said  M.  Folgat.  "  Well,  call  them 
so;  but  they  are  based  upon  positive  facts,  and  sup- 
ported by  a  hundred  precedents.  Why  should  we  not 
find  this  Suky  Wood,  whose  birthplace  and  family  we 
know,  and  who  has  no  reason  for  concealment?  Gou- 
dar  has  found  very  different  people ;  and  Goudar  is  on 
our  side.  And  you  may  be  sure  he  will  not  be  asleep. 
I  have  held  out  to  him  a  certain  hope  which  will  make 
him  do  miracles, — the  hope  of  receiving  as  a  reward, 
if  he  succeeds,  the  house  in  Vine  Street.  The  stakes 
are  too  magnificent:  he  must  win  the  game, — he  who 
has  won  so  many  already.  Who  knows  what  he  may 


4i6     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

not  have  discovered  since  we  left  him?  Has  he  not 
done  wonders  already  ?  " 

"  It  is  marvellous ! "  cried  Jacques,  amazed  at  these 
results. 

Older  than  M.  Folgat  and  Jacques,  the  eminent 
advocate  of  Sauveterre  was  less  ready  to  feel  such 
enthusiasm. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  it  is  marvellous ;  and,  if  we  had 
time,  I  would  say  as  you  do,  '  We  shall  carry  the  day !  " 
But  there  is  no  time  for  Goudar's  investigations:  the 
sessions  are  on  hand,  and  it  seems  to  me  it  would  be 
very  difficult  to  obtain  a  postponement." 

"  Besides,  I  do  not  wish  it  to  be  postponed,"  said 
Jacques. 

"  But  "— 

"  On  no  account,  Magloire,  never !  What  ?  I 
should  endure  three  months  more  of  this  anguish 
which  tortures  me  ?  I  could  not  do  it :  my  strength 
is  exhausted.  This  uncertainty  has  been  too  much 
for  me.  I  could  bear  no  more  suspense." 

M.  Folgat  interrupted  him,  saying, — 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  that :  a  postpone- 
ment is  out  of  question.  On  what  pretext  could  we 
ask  for  it?  The  only  way  would  be  to  introduce  an 
entirely  new  element  in  the  case.  We  should  have  to 
summon  the  Countess  Claudieuse." 

The  greatest  surprise  appeared  on  Jacques's  face. 

"  Will  we  not  summon  her  anyhow  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  That  depends." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  It  is  very  simple,  however.  If  Goudar  should 
succeed,  before  the  trial,  in  collecting  sufficient  evi- 
dence against  her,  I  should  summon  her  certainly ; 
and  then  the  case  would  naturally  change  entirely ;  the 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     417 

whole  proceedings  would  begin  anew ;  and  you  would 
probably  appear  only  as  a  witness.  If,  on  the  con- 
trary, we  obtain,  before  the  trial  begins,  no  other 
proof  but  what  we  have  now,  I  shall  not  mention  her 
name  even ;  for  that  would,  in  my  opinion,  and  in  M. 
Magloire's  opinion,  ruin  your  cause  irrevocably." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  great  advocate,  "  that  is  my 
opinion." 

Jacques's  amazement  was  boundless. 

"  Still,"  he  said,  "  in  self-defence,  I  must,  if  I  am 
brought  up  in  court,  speak  of  my  relations  to  the 
Countess  Claudieuse." 

"  No." 

"  But  that  is  my  only  explanation." 

"  If  it  were  credited." 

"  And  you  think  you  can  defend  me,  you  think  you 
can  save  me,  without  telling  the  truth  ?  " 

M.  Folgat  shook  his  head,  and  said, — 

"  In  court  the  truth  is  the  last  thing  to  be 
thought  of." 

"  Oh !  " 

"  Do  you  think  the  jury  would  credit  allegations 
which  M.  Magloire  did  not  credit?  No.  Well,  then, 
we  had  better  not  speak  of  them  any  more,  and  try  to 
find  some  explanation  which  will  meet  the  charges 
brought  against  you.  Do  you  think  we  should  be  the 
first  to  act  thus?  By  no  means.  There  are  very  few 
cases  in  which  the  prosecution  says  all  it  knows,  and 
still  fewer  in  which  the  defence  calls  for  every  thing 
it  might  call  for.  Out  of  ten  criminal  trials,  there  are 
at  least  three  in  which  side-issues  are  raised.  What 
will  be  the  charge  in  court  against  you?  The  sub- 
stance of  the  romance  which  the  magistrate  has  in- 
vented in  order  to  prove  your  guilt.  You  must  meet 


4i8     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

him  with  another  romance  which  proves  your  inno- 
cence." 

"  But  the  truth." 

"  Is  dependent  on  probability,  my  dear  client. 
Ask  M.  Magloire.  The  prosecution  only  asks  for 
probability :  hence  probability  is  all  the  defence  has 
to  care  for.  Human  justice  is  feeble,  and  limited  in 
its  means;  it  cannot  go  down  to  the  very  bottom  of 
things;  it  cannot  judge  of  motives,  and  fathom  con- 
sciences. It  can  only  judge  from  appearances,  and 
decide  by  plausibility :  there  is  hardly  a  case  which 
has  not  some  unexplored  mystery,  some  undiscovered 
secret.  The  truth !  Ah !  do  you  think  M.  Galpin  has 
looked  for  it?  If  he  did,  why  did  he  not  summon 
Cocoleu  ?  But  no,  as  long  as  he  can  produce  a  crimi- 
nal, who  may  be  responsible  for  the  crime,  he  is  quite 
content.  The  truth !  Which  of  us  knows  the  real 
truth  ?  Your  case,  M.  de  Boiscoran,  is  one  of  those  in 
which  neither  the  prosecution,  nor  the  defence,  nor 
the  accused  himself,  knows  the  truth  of  the  matter." 

There  followed  a  long  silence,  so  deep  a  silence, 
that  the  step  of  the  sentinel  could  be  heard,  who  was 
walking  up  and  down  under  the  prison-windows.  M. 
Folgat  had  said  all  he  thought  proper  to  say :  he 
feared,  in  saying  more,  to  assume  too  great  a  re- 
sponsibility. It  was,  after  all,  Jacques's  life  and 
Jacques's  honor  which  were  at  stake.  He  alone, 
therefore,  ought  to  decide  the  nature  of  his  defence. 
If  his  judgment  was  too  forcibly  controlled  by  his 
counsel,  he  would  have  had  a  right  hereafter  to  say, 
"  Why  did  you  not  leave  me  free  to  choose?  I  should 
not  have  been  condemned." 

To  show  this  very  clearly,  M.  Folgat  went  on, — 

"  The  advice  I  give  you,  my  dear  client,  is,  in  my 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     419 

eyes,  the  best :  it  is  the  advice  I  would  give  my  own 
brother.  But,  unfortunately,  I  cannot  say  it  is  in- 
fallible. You  must  decide  yourself.  Whatever  you 
may  resolve,  I  am  still  at  your  service." 

Jacques  made  no  reply.  His  elbows  resting  on  the 
table,  his  face  in  his  hands,  he  remained  motionless, 
like  a  statue,  absorbed  in  his  thoughts.  What  should 
he  do?  Should  he  follow  his  first  impulse,  tear  the 
veil  aside,  and  proclaim  the  truth?  That  was  a 
doubtful  policy,  but  also,  what  a  triumph  if  he  suc- 
ceeded ! 

Should  he  adopt  the  views  of  his  counsel,  employ 
subterfuges  and  falsehoods?  That  was  more  certain 
of  success ;  but  to  be  successful  in  this  way — was  that 
a  real  victory? 

Jacques  was  in  a  terrible  perplexity.  He  felt  it  but 
too  clearly.  The  decision  he  must  form  now  would 
decide  his  fate.  Suddenly  he  raised  his  head,  and 
said, — 

"  What  is  your  advice,  M.  Magloire  ?  " 

The  great  advocate  of  Sauveterre  frowned  angrily, 
and  said,  in  a  somewhat  rough  tone  of  voice, — 

"  I  have  had  the  honor  to  place  before  your  mother 
all  that  my  young  colleague  has  just  told  you.  M.  Fol- 
gat  has  but  one  fault, — he  is  too  cautious.  The  physi- 
cian must  not  ask  what  his  patient  thinks  of  his  reme- 
dies :  he  must  prescribe  them.  It  may  be  that  our 
prescriptions  do  not  meet  with  success ;  but,  if  you  do 
not  follow  them,  you  are  most  assuredly  lost." 

Jacques  hesitated  for  some  minutes  longer.  These 
prescriptions,  as  M.  Magloire  called  them,  were  pain- 
fully repugnant  to  his  chivalrous  and  open  character. 

"  Would  it  be  worth  while,"  he  murmured,  "  to  be 
acquitted  on  such  terms?  Would  I  really  be  excul- 


420     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

pated  by  such  proceedings?  Would  not  my  whole 
life  thereafter  be  disgraced  by  suspicions?  I  should 
not  come  out  from  the  trial  with  a  clear  acquittal :  I 
should  have  escaped  by  a  mere  chance." 

"  That  would  still  be  better  than  to  go,  by  a  clear 
judgment,  to  the  galleys,"  said  M.  Magloire  brutally. 

This  word,  "  the  galleys,"  made  Jacques  bound.  He 
rose,  walked  up  and  down  a  few  times  in  his  room, 
and  then,  placing  himself  in  front  of  his  counsel, 
said, — 

"  I  put  myself  in  your  hands,  gentlemen.  Tell  me 
what  I  must  do." 

Jacques  had  at  least  this  merit,  if  he  once  formed 
a  resolution,  he  was  sure  to  adhere  to  it.  Calm  now, 
and  self-possessed,  he  sat  down,  and  said,  with  a 
melancholy  smile, — 

"  Let  us  hear  the  plan  of  battle." 

This  plan  had  been  for  a  month  now  the  one  great 
thought  of  M.  Folgat.  All  his  intelligence,  all  his 
sagacity  and  knowledge  of  the  world,  had  been  brought 
to  bear  upon  this  case,  which  he  had  made  his  own,  so 
to  say,  by  his  almost  passionate  interest.  He  knew 
the  tactics  of  the  prosecution  as  well  as  M.  Galpin 
himself,  and  he  knew  its  weak  and  its  strong  side 
even  better  than  M.  Galpin. 

"  We  shall  go  on,  therefore,"  he  began,  "  as  if  there 
was  no  such  person  as  the  Countess  Claudieuse.  We 
know  nothing  of  her.  We  shall  say  nothing  of  the 
meeting  at  Valpinson,  nor  of  the  burned  letters." 

"  That  is  settled." 

"  That  being  so,  we  must  next  look,  not  for  the 
manner  in  which  we  spent  our  time,  but  for  our  pur- 
pose in  going  out  the  evening  of  the  crime.  Ah !  If 
we  could  suggest  a  plausible,  a  very  probable  purpose, 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     421 

I  should  almost  guarantee  our  success;  for  we  need 
not  hesitate  to  say  there  is  the  turning-point  of  the 
whole  case,  on  which  all  the  discussions  will  turn." 

Jacques  did  not  seem  to  be  fully  convinced  of  this 
view.  He  said, — 

"  You  think  that  possible  ?  " 

"  Unfortunately,  it  is  but  too  certain ;  and,  if  I  say 
unfortunately,  it  is  because  here  we  have  to  meet  a 
terrible  charge,  the  most  decisive,  by  all  means,  that 
has  been  raised,  one  on  which  M.  Galpin  has  not 
insisted  (he  is  much  too  clever  for  that),  but  one 
which,  in  the  hands  of  the  prosecution,  may  become  a 
terrible  weapon." 

"  I  must  confess,"  said  Jacques,  "  I  do  not  very  well 
see  "— 

"  Have  you  forgotten  the  letter  you  wrote  to  Miss 
Dionysia  the  evening  of  the  crime?"  broke  in  M. 
Magloire. 

Jacques  looked  first  at  one,  and  then  at  the  other  of 
his  counsel. 

"What,"  he  said,  "that  letter?" 

"  Overwhelms  us,  rny  dear  client,"  said  M.  Folgat. 
"  Don't  you  remember  it  ?  You  told  your  betrothed 
in  that  note,  that  you  would  be  prevented  from  enjoy- 
ing the  evening  with  her  by  some  business  of  the 
greatest  importance,  and  which  could  not  be  delayed? 
Thus,  you  see,  you  had  determined  beforehand,  and 
after  mature  consideration,  to  spend  that  evening  in 
doing  a  certain  thing.  What  was  it  ?  '  The  murder  of 
Count  Claudieuse,'  says  the  prosecution.  What  can 
we  say  ?  " 

"  But,  I  beg  your  pardon — that  letter.  Miss  Diony- 
sia surely  has  not  handed  it  over  to  them  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  the  prosecution  is  aware  of  its  existence. 


422     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

M.  de  Chandore  and  M.  Seneschal  have  spoken  of  it 
in  the  hope  of  exculpating  you,  and  have  even  men- 
tioned the  contents.  And  M.  Galpin  knows  it  so  well, 
that  he  has  repeatedly  mentioned  it  to  you,  and  you 
have  confessed  all  that  he  could  desire. 

The  young  advocate  looked  among  his  papers;  and 
soon  he  had  found  what  he  wanted. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  in  your  third  examina- 
tion, I  find  this, — 

"  '  QUESTION. — You  were  shortly  to  marry  Miss 
Chandore? 

ANSWER. — Yes. 

Q. — For  some  time  you  had  been  spending  your 
evenings  with  her? 

A.— Yes,  all. 

Q. — Except  the  one  of  the  crime? 

A. — Unfortunately. 

Q. — Then  your  betrothed  must  have  wondered  at 
your  absence? 

A.— No :  I  had  written  to  her.'  " 

"  Do  you  hear,  Jacques  ?  "  cried  M.  Magloire.  "  No- 
tice that  M.  Galpin  takes  care  not  to  insist.  He  does 
not  wish  to  rouse  your  suspicions.  He  has  got  you  to 
confess ;  and  that  is  enough  for  him." 

But,  in  the  meantime,  M.  Folgat  had  found  another 
paper. 

"  In  your  sixth  examination,"  he  went  on,  "  I  have 
noticed  this, — 

"  '  Q. — You  left  your  house  with  your  gun  on  your 
shoulder,  without  any  definite  aim? 

A. — I  shall  explain  that  when  I  have  consulted  with 
counsel. 

Q. — You  need  no  consultation  to  tell  the  truth. 

A. — I  shall  not  change  my  resolution. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     423 

Q. — Then  you  will  not  tell  me  where  you  were 
between  eight  and  midnight? 

A. — I  shall  answer  that  question  at  the  same  time 
with  the  other. 

Q. — You  must  have  had  very  strong  reasons  to 
keep  you  out,  as  you  were  expected  by  your  betrothed, 
Miss  Chandore? 

A. — I  had  written  to  her  not  to  expect  me.' " 

"  Ah !  M.  Galpin  is  a  clever  fellow,"  growled  M. 
Magloire. 

"  Finally,"  said  M.  Folgat,  "  here  is  a  passage  from 
your  last  but  one  examination, — 

"  '  Q. — When  you  wanted  to  send  anybody  to  Sauve- 
terre,  whom  did  you  usually  employ? 

A. — The  son  of  one  of  my  tenants,  Michael. 

Q. — It  was  he,  I  suppose,  who,  on  the  evening  of 
the  crime,  carried  the  letter  to  Miss  Chandore,  in 
which  you  told  her  not  to  expect  you? 

A.— Yes. 

Q. — You  pretended  you  would  be  kept  by  some 
important  business? 

A. — That  is  the  usual  pretext. 

Q. — But  in  your  case  it  was  no  pretext.  Where  had 
you  to  go?  and  where  did  you  go? 

A. — As  long  as  I  have  not  seen  counsel  I  shall  say 
nothing. 

Q. — Have  a  care :  the  system  of  negation  and  con- 
cealment is  dangerous. 

A. — I  know  it,  and  I  accept  the  consequences.' " 

Jacques  was  dumfounded.  And  necessarily  every 
accused  person  is  equally  surprised  when  he  hears 
what  he  has  stated  in  the  examination.  There  is  not 
one  who  does  not  exclaim, — 

"  What,  I  said  that  ?    Never ! " 


424     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

He  has  said  it,  and  there  is  no  denying  it ;  for  there 
it  is  written,  and  signed  by  himself.  How  could  he 
ever  say  so? 

Ah !  that  is  the  point.  However  clever  a  man  may 
be,  he  cannot  for  many  months  keep  all  his  faculties 
on  the  stretch,  and  all  his  energy  up  to  its  full  power. 
He  has  his  hours  of  prostration  and  his  hours  of 
hope,  his  attacks  of  despair  and  his  moments  of 
courage;  and  the  impassive  magistrate  takes  advan- 
tage of  them  all.  Innocent  or  guilty,  no  prisoner  can 
cope  with  him.  However  powerful  his  memory  may 
be,  how  can  he  recall  an  answer  which  he  may  have 
given  weeks  and  weeks  before  ?  The  magistrate,  how- 
ever, remembers  it;  and  twenty  times,  if  needs  be, 
he  brings  it  up  again.  And  as  the  small  snowflake 
may  become  an  irresistible  avalanche,  so  an  insignifi- 
cant word,  uttered  at  haphazard,  forgotten,  then 
recalled,  commented  upon,  and  enlarged,  may  become 
crushing  evidence. 

Jacques  now  experienced  this.  These  questions  had 
been  put  to  him  so  skilfully,  and  at  such  long  intervals 
of  time,  that  he  had  totally  forgotten  them;  and  yet 
now,  when  he  recalled  his  answers,  he  had  to  acknowl- 
edge that  he  had  confessed  his  purpose  to  devote  that 
evening  to  some  business  of  great  importance. 

"  That  is  fearful !  "  he  cried. 

And,  overcome  by  the  terrible  reality  of  M.  Folgat's 
apprehension,  he  added, — 

"  How  can  we  get  out  of  that  ?  " 

"  I  told  you,"  replied  M.  Folgat,  "  we  must  find 
some  plausible  explanation." 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  incapable  of  that." 

The  young  lawyer  seemed  to  reflect  a  moment,  and 
then  he  said, — 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE     425 

"  You  have  been  a  prisoner  while  I  have  been  free. 
For  a  month  now  I  have  thought  that  matter  over." 

"  Ah ! " 

"  Where  was  your  wedding  to  be?  " 

"  At  my  house  at  Boiscoran." 

"  Where  was  the  religious  ceremony  to  take  place  ?  " 

"  At  the  church  at  Brechy." 

"  Have  you  ever  spoken  of  that  to  the  priest  ?  " 

"  Several  times.  One  day  especially,  when  we  dis- 
cussed it  in  a  pleasant  way,  he  said  jestingly  to  me, 
'  I  shall  have  you,  after  all,  in  my  confessional/  " 

M.  Folgat  almost  trembled  with  satisfaction,  and 
Jacques  saw  it. 

"  Then  the  priest  at  Brechy  was  your  friend  ?  " 

"  An  intimate  friend.  He  sometimes  came  to  dine 
with  me  quite  unceremoniously,  and  I  never  passed 
him  without  shaking  hands  with  him." 

The  young  lawyer's  joy  was  growing  perceptibly. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  my  explanation  is  becoming 
quite  plausible.  Just  hear  what  I  have  positively  ascer- 
tained to  be  the  fact.  In  the  time  from  nine  to  eleven 
o'clock,  on  the  night  of  the  crime,  there  was  not  a 
soul  at  the  parsonage  in  Brechy.  The  priest  was  din- 
ing with  M.  Besson,  at  his  house ;  and  his  servant  had 
gone  out  to  meet  him  with  a  lantern." 

"  I  understand,"  said  M.  Magloire. 

"  Why  should  you  not  have  gone  to  see  the  priest 
at  Brechy,  my  dear  client?  In  the  first  place,  you 
had  to  arrange  the  details  of  the  ceremony  with  him ; 
then,  as  he  is  your  friend,  and  a  man  of  experience, 
and  a  priest,  you  wanted  to  ask  him  for  his  advice 
before  taking  so  grave  a  step,  and,  finally,  you  intended 
to  fulfil  that  religious  duty  of  which  he  spoke,  and 
which  you  were  rather  reluctant  to  comply  with." 


426     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

"  Well  said ! "  approved  the  eminent  lawyer  of  Sau- 
veterre, — "  very  well  said  !  " 

"  So,  you  see,  my  dear  client,  it  was  for  the  purpose 
of  consulting  the  priest  at  Brechy  that  you  deprived 
yourself  of  the  pleasure  of  spending-  the  evening  with 
your  betrothed.  Now  let  us  see  how  that  answers 
the  allegations  of  the  prosecution.  They  ask  you 
why  you  took  to  the  marshes.  Why?  Because  it  was 
the  shortest  way,  and  you  were  afraid  of  finding  the 
priest  in  bed.  Nothing  more  natural ;  for  it  is  well 
known  that  the  excellent  man  is  in  the  habit  of  going 
to  bed  at  nine  o'clock.  Still  you  had  put  yourself  out 
in  vain ;  for,  when  you  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  par- 
sonage, nobody  came  to  open." 

Here  M.  Magloire  interrupted  his  colleague,  say- 
ing— 

"  So  far,  all  is  very  well.  But  now  there  comes  a 
very  great  improbability.  No  one  would  think  of  go- 
ing through  the  forest  of  Rochepommier  in  order 
to  return  from  Brechy  to  Boiscoran.  If  you  knew 
the  country  " — 

"  I  know  it ;  for  I  have  carefully  explored  it.  And 
the  proof  of  it  is,  that,  having  foreseen  the  objection, 
I  have  found  an  answer.  While  M.  de  Boiscoran 
knocked  at  the  door,  a  little  peasant-girl  passed  by, 
and  told  him  that  she  had  just  met  the  priest  at  a 
place  called  the  Marshalls'  Cross-roads.  As  the  par- 
sonage stands  quite  isolated,  at  the  end  of  the  village, 
such  an  incident  is  very  probable.  As  for  the  priest, 
chance  led  me  to  learn  this :  precisely  at  the  hour  at 
which  M.  de  Boiscoran  would  have  been  a  Brechy, 
a  priest  passed  the  Marshalls'  Cross-roads;  and  this 
priest,  whom  I  have  seen,  belongs  to  the  next  parish. 
He  also  dined  at  M.  Besson's,  and  had  just  been  sent 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     427 

for  to  attend  a  dying  woman.  The  little  girl,  there- 
fore, did  not  tell  a  story :  she  only  made  a  mistake." 

"  Excellent !  "  said  M.  Magloire. 

"  Still,"  continued  M.  Folgat,  "  after  this  informa- 
tion, what  did  M.  de  Boiscoran  do?  He  went  on; 
and,  hoping  every  moment  to  meet  the  priest,  he 
walked  as  far  as  the  forest  of  Rochepommier.  Find- 
ing, at  last,  that  the  peasant-girl  had — purposely  or 
not — led  him  astray,  he  determined  to  return  to  Bois- 
coran through  the  woods.  But  he  was  in  very  bad 
humor  at  having  thus  lost  an  evening  which  he  might 
have  spent  with  his  betrothed;  and  this  made  him 
swear  and  curse,  as  the  witness  Gaudry  has  testified." 

The  famous  lawyer  of  Sauveterre  shook  his  head. 

"That  is  ingenious,  I  admit;  and  I  confess,  in  all 
humility,  that  I  could  not  have  suggested  any  thing 
as  good.  But — for  there  is  a  but — your  story  sins  by 
its  very  simplicity.  The  prosecution  will  say,  '  If  that 
is  the  truth,  why  did  not  M.  de  Boiscoran  say  so  at 
once?  and  what  need  was  there  to  consult  his 
counsel  ? ' ' 

M.  Folgat  showed  in  his  face  that  he  was  making  a 
great  effort  to  meet  the  objection.  After  a  while,  he 
replied, — 

"  I  know  but  too  well  that  that  is  the  weak  spot  in 
our  armor, — a  very  weak  spot,  too ;  for  it  is  quite 
clear,  that,  if  M.  de  Boiscoran  had  given  this  explana- 
tion on  the  day  of  his  arrest,  he  would  have  been 
released  instantly.  But  what  better  can  be  found? 
What  else  can  be  found?  However,  this  is  only  a 
rough  sketch  of  my  plan,  and  I  have  never  put  it  into 
words  yet  till  now.  With  your  assistance,  M.  Ma- 
gloire, with  the  aid  of  Mechinet,  to  whom  I  am  already 
indebted  for  very  valuable  information,  with  the  aid  of 


428     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

all  our  friends,  in  fine,  I  cannot  help  hoping  that  I  may 
be  able  to  improve  my  plan  by  adding  some  mysteri- 
ous secret  which  may  help  to  explain  M.  de  Boisco- 
ran's  reticence.  I  thought,  at  one  time,  of  calling  in 
politics,  and  to  pretend,  that,  on  account  of  the  peculiar 
views  of  which  he  is  suspected,  M.  de  Boiscoran  pre- 
ferred keeping  his  relations  with  the  priest  at  Brechy 
a  secret." 

"  Oh,  that  would  have  been  most  unfortunate ! " 
broke  in  M.  Magloire.  "  We  are  not  only  religious  at 
Sauveterre,  we  are  devout,  my  good  colleague, — ex- 
cessively devout." 

"  And  I  have  given  up  that  idea." 

Jacques,  who  had  till  now  kept  silent  and  motionless, 
now  raised  himself  suddenly  to  his  full  height,  and 
cried,  in  a  voice  of  concentrated  rage, — 

"  Is  it  not  too  bad,  is  it  not  atrocious,  that  we  should 
be  compelled  to  concoct  a  falsehood  ?  And  I  am  inno- 
cent! What  more  could  be  done  if  I  were  a  mur- 
derer?" 

Jacques  was  perfectly  right:  it  was  monstrous  that 
he  should  be  absolutely  forced  to  conceal  the  truth. 
But  his  counsel  took  no  notice  of  his  indignation :  they 
were  too  deeply  absorbed  in  examining  minutely  their 
system  of  defence. 

"  Let  us  go  on  to  the  other  points  of  the  accusa- 
tion," said  M.  Magloire. 

"  If  my  version  is  accepted,"  replied  M.  Folgat,  "  the 
rest  follows  as  a  matter  of  course.  But  will  they 
accept  it?  On  the  day  on  which  he  was  arrested,  M. 
de  Boiscoran,  trying  to  find  an  excuse  for  having 
been  out  that  night,  has  said  that  he  had  gone  to  see 
his  wood-merchant  at  Brechy.  That  was  a  disastrous 
imprudence.  And  here  is  the  true  danger.  As  to  the 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     429 

rest,  that  amounts  to  nothing.  There  is  the  water 
in  which  M.  de  Boiscoran  washed  his  hands  when  he 
came  home,  and  in  which  they  have  found  traces  of 
burnt  paper.  We  have  only  to  modify  the  facts  very 
slightly  to  explain  that.  We  have  only  to  state  what 
M.  de  Boiscoran  really  did,  with  a  slight  change  in  the 
motive.  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  a  passionate  smoker :  that 
is  well  known.  He  had  taken  with  him  a  goodly 
supply  of  cigarettes  when  he  set  out  for  Brechy;  but 
he  had  taken  no  matches.  And  that  is  a  fact.  We 
can  furnish  proof,  we  can  produce  witnesses,  we  had 
no  matches ;  for  we  had  forgotten  our  match-box,  the 
day  before,  at  M.  de  Chandore's, — the  box  which  we 
always  carry  about  on  our  person,  which  everybody 
knows,  and  which  is  still  lying  on  the  mantelpiece  in 
Miss  Dionysia's  little  boudoir.  Well,  having  no 
matches,  we  found  that  we  could  go  no  farther  with- 
out a  smoke.  We  had  gone  quite  far  already ;  and  the 
question  was,  Shall  we  go  on  without  smoking,  or 
return  ?  No  need  of  either !  There  was  our  gun ; 
and  we  knew  very  well  what  sportsmen  do  under  such 
circumstances.  We  took  the  shot  out  of  one  of  our 
cartridges,  and,  in  setting  the  powder  on  fire,  we 
lighted  a  piece  of  paper.  This  is  an  operation  in 
which  you  cannot  help  blackening  your  fingers.  As 
we  had  to  repeat  it  several  times,  our  hands  were 
very  much  soiled  and  very  black,  and  the  nails  full 
of  little  fragments  of  burnt  paper." 

"  Ah !  now  you  are  right,"  exclaimed  M.  Magloire. 
"Well  done!" 

His  young  colleague  became  more  and  more  ani- 
mated ;  and  always  employing  the  professional  '  we," 
which  his  brethren  affect,  he  went  on, — 

"  This  water,  which  you  dwell  upon  so  much,  is  the 


43o     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

clearest  evidence  of  our  innocence.  If  we  had  been 
an  incendiary,  we  should  certainly  have  poured  it  out 
as  hurriedly  as  the  murderer  tries  to  wash  out  the 
blood-stains  on  his  clothes,  which  betray  him." 

"  Very  well,"  said  M.  Magloire  again  approvingly. 

"  And  your  other  charges,"  continued  M.  Folgat, 
as  if  he  were  standing  in  court,  and  addressing  the 
jury, — "  your  other  charges  have  all  the  same  weight. 
Our  letter  to  Miss  Dionysia — why  do  you  refer  to 
that?  Because,  you  say,  it  proves  our  premeditation. 
Ah !  there  I  hold  you.  Are  we  really  so  stupid  and 
bereft  of  common  sense?  That  is  not  our  reputation. 
What !  we  premeditate  a  crime,  and  we  do  not  say 
to  ourselves  that  we  shall  certainly  be  convicted  unless 
we  prepare  an  alibi!  What !  we  leave  home  with  the 
fixed  purpose  of  killing  a  man,  and  we  load  our  gun 
with  small-shot!  Really,  you  make  the  defence  too 
easy ;  for  your  charges  do  not  stand  being  examined." 

It  was  Jacques's  turn,  this  time,  to  testify  his  appro- 
bation. 

"  That  is,"  he  said,  "  what  I  have  told  Galpin  over 
and  over  again ;  and  he  never  had  any  thing  to  say 
in  reply.  We  must  insist  on  that  point." 

M.  Folgat  was  consulting  his  notes. 

"  I  now  come  to  a  very  important  circumstance, 
and  one  which  I  should,  at  the  trial,  make  a  decisive 
question,  if  it  should  be  favorable  to  our  side.  Your 
valet,  my  dear  client, — your  old  Anthony, — told  me 
that  he  had  cleaned  and  washed  your  breech-loader 
the  night  before  the  crime." 

"  Great  God !  "  exclaimed  Jacques. 

"  Well,  I  see  you  appreciate  the  importance  of  the 
fact.  Between  that  cleaning  and  the  time  when  you 


WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     431 

set  a  cartridge  on  fire,  in  order  to  burn  the  letters 
of  the  Countess  Claudieuse,  did  you  fire  your  gun? 
If  you  did,  we  must  say  nothing  more  about  it.  If 
you  did  not,  one  of  the  barrels  of  the  breech-loader 
must  be  clean,  and  then  you  are  safe." 

For  more  than  a  minute,  Jacques  remained  silent, 
trying  to  recall  the  facts ;  at  last  he  replied, — 

"  It  seems  to  me,  I  am  sure,  I  fired  at  a  rabbit  on 
the  morning  of  the  fatal  day." 

M.  Magloire  looked  disappointed. 

"  Fate  again  !  "  he  said. 

"  Oh,  wait !  "  cried  Jacques.  "  I  am  quite  sure,  at 
all  events,  that  I  killed  that  rabbit  at  the  first  shot. 
Consequently,  I  can  have  fouled  only  one  barrel  of 
the  gun.  If  I  have  used  the  same  barrel  at  Valpinson, 
to  get  a  light,  I  am  safe.  With  a  double  gun,  one 
almost  instinctively  first  uses  the  right-hand  barrel." 

M.  Magloire's  face  grew  darker. 

"  Never  mind,"  he  said,  "  we  cannot-  possibly  make 
an  argument  upon  such  an  uncertain  chance, — a  chance 
which,  in  case  of  error,  would  almost  fatally  turn 
against  us.  But  at  the  trial,  when  they  show  you  the 
gun,  examine  it,  so  that  you  can  tell  me  how  that 
matter  stands." 

Thus  they  had  sketched  the  outlines  of  their  plan 
of  defence.  There  remained  nothing  now  but  to  per- 
fect the  details ;  and  to  this  task  the  two  lawyers  were 
devoting  themselves  still,  when  Blangin,  the  jailer, 
called  to  them  through  the  wicket,  that  the  doors  of 
the  prison  were  about  to  be  closed. 

"  Five  minutes  more,  my  good  Blangin ! "  cried 
Jacques. 

And  drawing  his  two  friends  aside,  as  far  from 


432     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS   LIFE 

the  wicket  as  he  could,  he  said  to  them  in  a  low  and 
distressed  voice, — 

"  A  thought  has  occurred  to  me,  gentlemen,  which  I 
think  I  ought  to  mention  to  you.  It  cannot  be  but 
that  the  Countess  Claudieuse  must  be  suffering  ter- 
ribly since  I  am  in  prison.  However  sure  she  may  be 
of  having  left  no  trace  behind  her  that  could  betray 
her,  she  must  tremble  at  the  idea  that  I  may,  after  all, 
tell  the  truth  in  self-defence.  She  would  deny,  I  know, 
and  she  is  so  sure  of  her  prestige,  that  she  knows  my 
accusations  would  not  injure  her  marvellous  reputa- 
tion. Nevertheless,  she  cannot  but  shrink  from  the 
scandal.  Who  knows  if  she  might  not  give  us  the 
means  to  escape  from  the  trial,  to  avoid  such  exposure  ? 
Why  might  not  one  of  you  gentlemen  make  the 
attempt?" 

M.  Folgat  was  a  man  of  quick  resolution. 

"  I  will  try,  if  you  will  give  me  a  line  of  intro- 
duction." 

Jacques  immediately  sat  down,  and  wrote, — 

"  I  have  told  my  counsel,  M.  Folgat,  every  thing. 
Save  me,  and  I  swear  to  you  eternal  silence.  Will  you 
let  me  perish,  Genevieve,  when  you  know  I  am  inno- 
cent? JACQUES." 

"  Is  that  enough  ?  "  he  asked,  handing  the  lawyer 
the  note. 

"  Yes ;  and  I  promise  you  I  will  see  the  Countess 
Claudieuse  within  the  next  forty-eight  hours." 

Blangin  was  becoming  impatient ;  and  the  two  advo- 
cates had  to  leave  the  prison.  As  they  crossed  the 
New-Market  Square,  they  noticed,  not  far  from  them, 
a  wandering  musician,  who  was  followed  by  a  num- 
ber of  boys  and  girls. 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     433 

It  was  a  kind  of  minstrel,  dressed  in  a  sort  of  gar- 
ment which  was  no  longer  an  overcoat,  and  had  not 
yet  assumed  the  shape  of  a  shortcoat.  He  was  strum- 
ming on  a  wretched  fiddle;  but  his  voice  was  good, 
and  the  ballad  he  sang  had  the  full  flavor  of  the  local 
accent : — 

"  In  the  spring,  mother  Redbreast 
Made  her  nest  in  the  bushes, 

The  good  lady! 
Made  her  nest  in  the  bushes, 
The  good  lady !  " 

Instinctively  M.  Folgat  was  fumbling  in  his  pocket 
for  a  few  cents,  when  the  musician  came  up  to  him, 
held  out  his  hat  as  if  to  ask  alms,  and  said, — 

"  You  do  not  recognize  me  ?  " 

The  advocate  started. 

"  You  here !  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  myself.  I  came  this  morning.  I  was  watch- 
ing for  you ;  for  I  must  see  you  this  evening  at  nine 
o'clock.  Come  and  open  the  little  garden-gate  at  M. 
de  Chandore's  for  me." 

And,  taking  up  his  fiddle  again,  he  wandered  off 
listlessly,  singing  with  his  clear  voice, — 

"  And  a  few,  a  few  weeks  later, 
She  had  a  wee,  a  wee  bit  birdy." 


XXIV. 

THE  great  lawyer  of  Sauveterre  had  been  far  more 
astonished  at  the  unexpected  and  extraordinary  meet- 
ing than  M.  Folgat.  As  soon  as  the  wandering  min- 
strel had  left  them,  he  asked  his  young  colleague, — 

"  You  know  that  individual  ?  " 

"  That   individual,"   replied   M.   Folgat,    "  is   none 


434     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

other  than  the  agent  whose  services  I  have  engaged, 
and  whom  I  mentioned  to  you." 

"Goudar?" 

"  Yes,  Goudar." 

"  And  did  you  not  recognize  him  ?  " 

The  young  advocate  smiled. 

"  Not  until  he  spoke,"  he  replied.  "  The  Goudar 
whom  I  know  is  tall,  thin,  beardless,  and  wears  his 
hair  cut  like  a  brush.  This  street-musician  is  low, 
bearded,  and  has  long,  smooth  hair  falling  down  his 
back.  How  could  I  recognize  my  man  in  that  vaga- 
bond costume,  with  a  violin  in  his  hand,  and  a  pro- 
vincial song  set  to  music?" 

M.  Magloire  smiled  too,  as  he  said, — 

"  What  are,  after  all,  professional  actors  in  compari- 
son with  these  men !  Here  is  one  who  pretends  hav- 
ing reached  Sauveterre  only  this  morning,  and  who 
knows  the  country  as  well  as  Trumence  himself.  He 
has  not  been  here  twelve  hours,  and  he  speaks  already 
of  M.  de  Chandore's  little  garden-gate." 

"  Oh !  I  can  explain  that  circumstance  now,  al- 
though, at  first,  it  surprised  me  very  much.  When  I 
told  Goudar  the  whole  story,  I  no  doubt  mentioned  the 
little  gate  in  connection  with  Mechinet." 

Whilst  they  were  chatting  thus,  they  had  reached 
the  upper  end  of  National  Street.  Here  they  stopped ; 
and  M.  Magloire  said, — 

"  One  word  before  we  part.  Are  you  quite  re- 
solved to  see  the  Countess  Claudieuse  ?  " 

"  I  have  promised." 

"  What  do  you  propose  telling  her  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  That  depends  upon  how  she 
receives  me." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     435 

"  As  far  as  I  know  her,  she  will,  upon  looking  at 
the  note,  merely  order  you  out." 

"  Who  knows !  At  all  events,  I  shall  not  have  to 
reproach  myself  for  having  shrunk  from  a  step  which 
in  my  heart  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  take." 

"  Whatever  may  happen,  be  prudent,  and  do  not 
allow  yourself  to  get  angry.  Remember  that  a  scene 
with  her  would  compel  us  to  change  our  whole  line  of 
defence,  and  that  that  is  the  only  one  which  promises 
any  success." 

"  Oh,  do  not  fear !  " 

Thereupon,  shaking  hands  once  more,  they  parted, 
M.  Magloire  returning  to  his  house,  and  M.  Folgat 
going  up  the  street.  It  struck  half-past  five,  and  the 
young  advocate  hurried  on  for  fear  of  being  too  late. 
He  found  them  waiting  for  him  to  go  to  dinner; 
but,  as  he  entered  the  room,  he  forgot  all  his  excuses 
and  his  painful  surprise  at  the  mournful  and  dejected 
appearance  of  the  prisoner's  friends  and  relatives. 

"  Have  we  any  bad  news  ?  "  he  asked  with  a  hesi- 
tating voice. 

"  The  worst  we  had  to  fear,"  replied  the  Marquis  de 
Boiscoran.  "  We  had  all  foreseen  it ;  and  still,  as  you 
see,  it  has  surprised  us  all,  like  a  clap  of  thunder." 

The  young  lawyer  beat  his  forehead,  and  cried, — 

"  The  court  has  ordered  the  trial ! " 

The  marquis  only  bent  his  head,  as  if  his  voice  had 
failed  him  to  answer  the  question. 

"  It  is  still  a  great  secret,"  said  Dionysia ;  "  and  we 
only  know  it,  thanks  to  the  indiscretion  of  our  kind,   / 
our  devoted  Mechinet.     Jacques  will  have  to  appear 
before  the  Assizes." 

She  was  interrupted  by  a  servant,  who  entered  to 
announce  that  dinner  was  on  the  table. 


436     WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

They  went  into  the  dining-room;  but  the  last  event 
made  it  well-nigh  impossible  for  them  to  eat.  Dionysia 
alone,  deriving  from  feverish  excitement  an  amazing 
energy,  aided  M.  Folgat  in  keeping  up  the  conversa- 
tion. From  her  the  young  advocate  learned  that 
Count  Claudieuse  was  decidedly  worse,  and  that  he 
would  have  received,  in  the  day,  the  last  sacrament, 
but  for  the  decided  opposition  of  Dr.  Seignebos,  who 
had  declared  that  the  slightest  excitement  might  kill 
his  patient. 

"  And  if  he  dies,"  said  M.  de  Chandore,  "  that  is 
the  finishing  stroke.  Public  opinion,  already  incensed 
against  Jacques,  will  become  implacable." 

However,  the  meal  came  to  an  end;  and  M.  Folgat 
went  up  to  Dionysia,  saying, — 

"  I  must  beg  of  you,  madam,  to  trust  me  with  the 
key  to  the  little  garden-gate." 

She  looked  at  him  quite  astonished. 

"  I  have  to  see  a  detective  secretly,  who  has  prom- 
ised me  his  assistance." 

"Is  he  here?" 

"  He  came  this  morning." 

When  Dionysia  had  handed  him  the  key,  M.  Folgat 
hastened  to  reach  the  end  of  the  garden;  and,  at  the 
third  stroke  of  nine  o'clock,  the  minstrel  of  the  New- 
Market  Square,  Goudar,  pushed  the  little  gate,  and, 
his  violin  under  his  arm,  slipped  into  the  garden. 

"  A  day  lost ! "  he  exclaimed,  without  thinking  of 
saluting  the  young  lawyer, — "  a  whole  day ;  for  I 
could  do  nothing  till  I  had  seen  you." 

He  seemed  to  be  so  angry,  that  M.  Folgat  tried 
to  soothe  him. 

"  Let  me  first  of  all  compliment  you  on  your  dis- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     437 

guise,"  he  said.  But  Gouclar  did  not  seem  to  be  open 
to  praise. 

"  What  would  a  detective  be  worth  if  he  could  not 
disguise  himself !  A  great  merit,  forsooth !  And  I 
tell  you,  I  hate  it !  But  I  could  not  think  of  coming 
to  Sauveterre  in  my  own  person,  a  detective.  Ugh! 
Everybody  would  have  run  away ;  and  what  a  pack 
of  lies  they  would  have  told  me !  So  I  had  to  assume 
that  hideous  masquerade.  To  think  tha.t  I  once  took 
six  months'  lessons  from  a  music-teacher  merely  to 
fit  myself  for  that  character !  A  wandering  musician, 
you  see,  can  go  anywhere,  and  nobody  is  surprised; 
he  goes  about  the  streets,  or  he  travels  along  the  high- 
road; he  enters  into  yards,  and  slips  into  houses;  he 
asks  alms :  and  in  so  doing,  he  accosts  everybody, 
speaks  to  them,  follows  them.  And  as  to  my  precious 
dialect,  you  must  know  I  have  been  down  here  once 
for  half  a  year,  hunting  up  counterfeiters;  and,  if 
you  don't  catch  a  provincial  accent  in  six  months,  you 
don't  deserve  belonging  to  the  police.  And  I  do 
belong  to  it,  to  the  great  distress  of  my  wife,  and  to 
my  own  disgust." 

"  If  your  ambition  is  really  what  you  say,  my  dear 
Goudar,"  said  M.  Folgat,  interrupting  him,  "  you  may 
be  able  to  leave  your  profession  very  soon — if  you  suc- 
ceed in  saving  M.  de  Boiscoran." 

"  He  would  give  me  his  house  in  Vine  Street?" 

"  With  all  his  heart !  " 

The  detective  looked  up,  and  repeated  slowly, — 

"  The  house  in  Vine  Street,  the  paradise  of  this 
world.  An  immense  garden,  a  soil  of  marvellous 
beauty.  And  what  an  exposure!  There  are  walls 
there  on  which  I  could  raise  finer  peaches  than  they 


438     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

have  at  Montreuil,  and  richer  Chasselas  than  those  of 
Fontainebleau !  " 

"  Did  you  find  any  thing  there  ?  "  asked  M.  Folgat. 

Goudar,  thus  recalled  to  business,  looked  angry 
again. 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  he  replied.  "  Nor  did  I  learn  any 
thing  from  the  tradesmen.  I  am  no  farther  advanced 
than  I  was  the  first  day." 

"  Let  us  hope  you  will  have  more  luck  here." 

"  I  hope  so ;  but  I  need  your  assistance  to  com- 
mence operations.  I  must  see  Dr.  Seignebos,  and 
Mechinet  the  clerk.  Ask  them  to  meet  me  at  the 
place  I  shall  assign  in  a  note  which  I  will  send  them." 

"  I  will  tell  them." 

"  Now,  if  you  want  my  incognito  to  be  respected, 
you  must  get  me  a  permit  from  the  mayor,  for  Goudar, 
street-musician.  I  keep  my  name,  because  here  no- 
body knows  me.  But  I  must  have  that  permit  this 
evening.  Wherever  I  might  present  myself,  asking 
for  a  bed,  they  would  call  for  my  papers." 

"  Wait  here  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  there  is  a 
bench,"  said  M.  Folgat,  "  and  I'll  go  at  once  to  the 
mayor." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  Goudar  had  his  permit 
in  his  pocket,  and  went  to  take  lodgings  at  the  Red 
Lamb,  the  worst  tavern  in  all  Sauveterre. 

When  a  painful  and  inevitable  duty  is  to  be  per- 
formed, the  true  character  of  a  man  is  apt  to  appear 
in  its  true  light.  Some  people  postpone  it  as  long 
as  they  can,  and  delay,  like  those  pious  persons  who 
keep  the  biggest  sin  for  the  end  of  their  confession : 
others,  on  the  contrary,  are  in  a  hurry  to  be  relieved 
of  their  anxiety,  and  make  an  end  of  it  as  soon  as 
they  can.  M.  Folgat  belonged  to  this  latter  class. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     439 

Next  morning  he  woke  up  at  daylight,  and  said  to 
himself, — 

"  I  will  call  upon  the  Countess  Claudieuse  this 
morning." 

At  eight  o'clock  he  left  the  house,  dressed  more 
carefully  than  usual,  and  told  the  servant  that  he  did 
not  wish  to  be  waited  for,  if  he  should  not  be  back 
for  breakfast. 

He  went  first  to  the  court-house,  hoping  to  meet 
the  clerk  there.  He  was  not  disappointed.  The  wait- 
ing-rooms were  quite  deserted  yet ;  but  Mechinet  was 
already  at  work  in  his  office,  writing  with  the  feverish 
haste  of  a  man  who  has  to  pay  for  a  piece  of  property 
that  he  wants  to  call  his  own. 

When  he  saw  Folgat  enter,  he  rose,  and  said  at 
once, — 

"  You  have  heard  the  decision  of  the  court  ?  " 

"  Yes,  thanks  to  your  kindness ;  and  I  must  confess 
it  has  not  surprised  me.  What  do  they  think  of  it 
here?" 

"  Everybody  expects  a  condemnation." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see ! "  said  the  young  advocate. 

And,  lowering  his  voice,  he  added, — 

"  But  I  came  for  another  purpose.  The  agent 
whom  I  expected  has  come,  and  he  wishes  to  see  you. 
He  will  write  to  you  to  make  an  appointment,  and  I 
hope  you  will  consent." 

"  Certainly,  with  all  my  heart,"  replied  the  clerk. 
"  And  God  grant  that  he  may  succeed  in  extricating 
M.  de  Boiscoran  from  his  difficulties,  even  if  it  were 
only  to  take  the  conceit  out  of  my  master." 

"  Ah  !  is  M.  Galpin  so  triumphant  ?  " 

"  Without  the  slightest  reserve.  He  sees  his  old 
friend  already  at  the  galleys.  He  has  received  another 


440     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

letter  of  congratulation  from  the  attorney  general, 
and  came  here  yesterday,  when  court  had  adjourned, 
to  read  it  to  any  one  who  would  listen.  Everybody,  of 
course,  complimented  him,  except  the  president,  who 
turned  his  back  upon  him,  and  the  commonwealth 
attorney,  who  told  him  in  Latin  that  he  was  selling 
the  bear's  skin  before  he  had  killed  him. 

In  the  meantime  steps  were  heard  coming  down 
the  passages ;  and  M.  Folgat  said  hurriedly, — 

"  One  more  suggestion.  Goudar  desires  to  remain 
unknown.  Do  not  speak  of  him  to  any  living  soul, 
and  especially  show  no  surprise  at  the  costume  in 
which  you  will  see  him." 

The  noise  of  a  door  which  was  opened  interrupted 
him.  One  of  the  judges  entered,  who,  after  having 
"bowed  very  civilly,  asked  the  clerk  a  number  of  ques- 
tions about  a  case  which  was  to  come  on  the  same 
day. 

"  Good-by,  M.  Mechinet,"  said  the  young  advocate. 

And  his  next  visit  was  to  Dr.  Seignebos.  When  he 
rang  the  bell,  a  servant  came  to  the  door,  and  said, — 

"  The  doctor  is  gone  out ;  but  he  will  be  back 
directly,  and  has  told  me  to  beg  you  to  wait  for  him 
in  his  study." 

Such  an  evidence  of  perfect  trust  was  unheard  of. 
No  one  was  ever  allowed  to  remain  alone  in  his  sanc- 
tuary. It  was  an  immense  room,  quite  full  of  most 
varied  objects,  which  at  a  glance  revealed  the  opinions, 
tastes,  and  predilections  of  the  owner.  The  first  thing 
to  strike  the  visitor  as  he  entered  was  an  admirable 
bust  of  Bichat,  flanked  on  either  side  by  smaller  busts 
of  Robespierre  and  Rousseau.  A  clock  of  the  time  of 
Louis  XIV.  stood  between  the  windows,  and  marked 
the  seconds  with  a  noise  which  sounded  like  the  rat- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     441 

tling  of  old  iron.  One  whole  side  was  filled  with 
books  of  all  kinds,  unbound  or  bound,  in  a  way  which 
would  have  set  M.  Daubigeon  laughing  very  heartily. 
A  huge  cupboard  adapted  for  collections  of  plants  be- 
spoke a  passing  fancy  for  botany ;  while  an  electric 
machine  recalled  the  time  when  the  doctor  believed  in 
cures  by  electricity. 

On  the  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room  vast  piles  of 
books  betrayed  the  doctor's  recent  studies.  All  the 
authors  who  have  spoken  of  insanity  or  idiocy  were 
there,  from  Apostolides  to  Tardien.  M.  Folgat  was 
still  looking  around,  when  Dr.  Seignebos  entered, 
always  like  a  bombshell,  but  far  more  cheerful  than 
usual. 

"  I  knew  I  should  find  you  here !  "  he  cried  still  in 
the  door.  "  You  come  to  ask  me  to  meet  Goudar." 

The  young  advocate  started,  and  said,  all  amazed, — 

"  Who  can  have  told  you  ?  " 

"  Goudar  himself.  I  like  that  man.  I  am  sure  no 
one  will  suspect  me  of  having  a  fancy  for  any  thing 
that  is  connected  with  the  police.  I  have  had  too 
much  to  do  all  my  life  with  spies  and  that  ilk.  But 
your  man  might  almost  reconcile  me  with  that  depart- 
ment." 

"  When  did  you  see  him  ?  " 

"  This  morning  at  seven.  He  was  so  prodigiously 
tired  of  losing  his  time  in  his  garret  at  the  Red  Lamb, 
that  it  occurred  to  him  to  pretend  illness,  and  to  send 
for  me.  I  went,  and  found  a  kind  of  street-minstrel, 
who  seemed  to  me  to  be  perfectly  well.  But,  as  soon 
as  we  were  alone,  he  told  me  all  about  it,  asking  me 
my  opinion,  and  telling  me  his  ideas.  M.  Folgat,  that 
man  Goudar  is  very  clever :  I  tell  you  so ;  and  we 
understand  each  other  perfectly." 


442     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Has  he  told  you  what  he  proposes  to  do  ?  " 

"  Nearly  so.  But  he  has  not  authorized  me  to  speak 
of  it.  Have  patience;  let  him  go  to  work,  wait,  and 
you  will  see  if  old  Seignebos  has  a  keen  scent." 

Saying  this  with  an  air  of  sublime  conceit,  he  took 
off  his  spectacles,  and  set  to  work  wiping  them  indus- 
triously. 

"  Well,  I  will  wait,"  said  the  young  advocate. 
"  And,  since  that  makes  an  end  to  my  business  here, 
I  beg  you  will  let  me  speak  to  you  of  another  matter. 
M.  de  Boiscoran  has  charged  me  with  a  message  to 
the  Countess  Claudieuse." 

"The  deuce!" 

"  And  to  try  to  obtain  from  her  the  means  for  our 
discharge." 

"  Do  you  expect  she  will  do  it  ?  " 

M.  Folgat  could  hardly  retain  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  I  have  accepted  the  mission,"  he  said  dryly,  "  and 
I  mean  to  carry  it  out." 

"  I  understand,  my  dear  sir.  But  you  will  not  see 
the  countess.  The  count  is  very  ill.  She  does  not 
leave  his  bedside,  and  does  not  even  receive  her  most 
intimate  friends." 

"  And  still  I  must  see  her.  I  must  at  any  hazard 
place  a  note  which  my  client  has  confided  to  me,  in 
her  own  hands.  And  look  here,  doctor,  I  mean  to  be 
frank  with  you.  It  was  exactly  because  I  foresaw 
there  would  be  difficulties,  that  I  came  to  you  to  ask 
your  assistance  in  overcoming  or  avoiding  them." 

"To  me?" 

"  Are  you  not  the  count's  physician  ?  " 

"  Ten  thousand  devils ! "  cried  Dr.  Seignebos. 
"  You  do  not  mince  matters,  you  lawyers  !  " 

And  then  speaking  in  a  lower  tone,  and  replying 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     443 

apparently  to  his  own  objections  rather  than  to  M. 
Folgat,  he  said, — 

"  Certainly,  I  attend  Count  Claudieuse,  whose  ill- 
ness, by  the  way,  upsets  all  my  theories,  and  defies  all 
my  experience :  but  for  that  very  reason  I  can  do 
nothing.  Our  profession  has  certain  rules  which  can- 
not be  infringed  upon  without  compromising  the  whole 
medical  profession." 

"  But  it  is  a  question  of  life  and  death  with  Jacques, 
sir,  with  a  friend." 

"  And  a  fellow  Republican,  to  be  sure.  But  I  can- 
not help  you  without  abusing  the  confidence  of  the 
Countess  Claudieuse." 

"  Ah,  sir !  Has  not  that  woman  committed  a  crime 
for  which  M.  de  Boiscoran,  though  innocent,  will  be 
arraigned  in  court  ?  " 

"  I  think  so ;  but  still  " — 

He  reflected  a  moment,  and  then  suddenly  snatched 
up  his  broad-brimmed  hat,  drew  it  over  his  head,  and 
cried, — 

"  In  fact,  so  much  the  worse  for  her !  There  are 
sacred  interests  which  override  every  thing.  Come !  " 


XXV. 

COUNT  CLAUDIEUSE  and  his  wife  had  installed  them- 
selves, the  day  after  the  fire,  in  Mautrec  Street.  The 
house  which  the  mayor  had  taken  for  them  had  been 
for  more  than  a  century  in  the  possession  of  the  great 
Julias  family,  and  is  still  considered  one  of  the  finest 
and  most  magnificent  mansions  in  Sauveterre. 

In  less  than  ten  minutes  Dr.  Seignebos  and  M.  Fol- 


444     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

gat  had  reached  the  house.  From  the  street,  nothing 
was  visible  but  a  tall  wall,  as  old  as  the  castle,  accord- 
ing to  the  claims  of  archaeologists,  and  covered  all 
over  with  a  mass  of  wild  flowers.  In  this  wall  there 
is  a  huge  entrance-gate  with  folding-doors.  During 
the  day  one-half  is  opened,  and  a  light,  low  open- 
work railing  put  in,  which  rings  a  bell  as  soon  as  it  is 
pushed  open. 

You  then  cross  a  large  garden,  in  which  a  dozen 
statues,  covered  with  green  moss,  are  falling  to  pieces 
on  their  pedestals,  overshadowed  by  magnificent  old 
linden-trees.  The  house  has  only  two  stories.  A 
large  hall  extends  from  end  to  end  of  the  lower 
story ;  and  at  the  end  a  wide  staircase  with  stone  steps 
and  a  superb  iron  railing  leads  up  stairs.  When  they 
entered  the  hall,  Dr.  Seignebos  opened  a  door  on  the 
right  hand. 

"  Step  in  here  and  wait,"  he  said  to  M.  Folgat.  "  I 
will  go  up  stairs  and  see  the  count,  whose  room  is  in 
the  second  story,  and  I  will  send  you  the  countess." 

The  young  advocate  did  as  he  was  bid,  and  found 
himself  in  a  large  room,  brilliantly  lighted  up  by  three 
tall  windows  that  went  down  to  the  ground,  and  looked 
out  upon  the  garden.  This  room  must  have  been 
superb  formerly.  The  walls  were  wainscoted  with 
beautiful  woods,  painted  white,  and  relieved  with 
arabesques  and  lines  in  gold.  The  ceiling  was  painted, 
and  represented  a  number  of  fat  little  angels  sporting 
in  a  sky  full  of  golden  stars. 

But  time  had  passed  its  destroying  hand  over  all 
this  splendor  of  the  past  age,  had  half  effaced  the 
paintings,  tarnished  the  gold  of  the  arabesques,  and 
faded  the  blue  of  the  ceiling  and  the  rosy  little  loves. 
Nor  was  the  furniture  calculated  to  make  compensa- 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     445 

tion  for  this  decay.  The  windows  had  no  curtains. 
On  the  mantelpiece  stood  a  worn-out  clock  and  half- 
broken  candelabra;  then,  here  and  there,  pieces  of 
furniture  that  would  not  match,  such  as  had  been  res- 
cued from  the  fire  at  Valpinson, — chairs,  sofas,  arm- 
chairs, and  a  round  table,  all  battered  and  blackened 
by  the  flames. 

But  M.  Folgat  paid  little  attention  to  these  details. 
He  only  thought  of  the  grave  step  on  which  he  was 
venturing,  and  which  he  now  only  looked  at  in  its 
full  strangeness  and  extreme  boldness.  Perhaps  he 
would  have  fled  at  the  last  moment  if  he  could  have 
done  so;  and  he  was  only  able  by  a  supreme  effort  to 
control  his  excitement. 

At  last  he  heard  a  rapid,  light  step  in  the  hall ;  and 
almost  immediately  the  Countess  Claudieuse  appeared. 
He  recognized  her  at  once,  such  as  Jacques  had  de- 
scribed her  to  him,  calm,  serious,  and  serene,  as  if 
her  soul  were  soaring  high  above  all  human  passions. 
Far  from  diminishing  her  exquisite  beauty,  the  terrible 
events  of  the  last  months  had  only  surrounded  her, 
as  it  were,  with  a  divine  halo.  She  had  fallen  off  a 
little,  however.  And  the  dark  semicircle  under  her 
eyes,  and  the  disorder  of  her  hair,  betrayed  the  fatigue 
and  the  anxiety  of  the  long  nights  which  she  had 
spent  by  her  husband's  bedside. 

As  M.  Folgat  was  bowing,  she  asked, — 

"  You  are  M.  de  Boiscoran's  counsel  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam,"  replied  the  young  advocate. 

"  The  doctor  tells  me  you  wish  to  speak  to  me." 

"  Yes,  madam." 

With  a  queenly  air,  she  pointed  to  a  chair,  and,  sit- 
ting down  herself,  she  said, — 

"  I  hear,  sir." 


446     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

M.  Folgat  began  with  beating  heart,  but  a  firm 
voice, — 

"  I  ought,  first  of  all,  madam,  to  state  to  you  my 
client's  true  position." 

"  That  is  useless,  sir.    I  know." 

"  You  know,  madam,  that  he  has  been  summoned 
to  trial,  and  that  he  may  be  condemned  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  painful  movement,  and 
said  very  softly, — 

"  I  know,  sir,  that  Count  Claudieuse  has  been  the 
victim  of  a  most  infamous  attempt  at  murder ;  that  he 
is  still  in  danger,  and  that,  unless  God  works  a  mir- 
acle, I  shall  soon  be  without  a  husband,  and  my  chil- 
dren without  a  father." 

"But  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  innocent,  madam." 

The  features  of  the  countess  assumed  an  expression 
of  profound  surprise;  and,  looking  fixedly  at  M.  Fol- 
gat, she  said, — 

"  And  who,  then,  is  the  murderer  ?  " 

Ah !  It  cost  the  young  advocate  no  small  effort  to 
prevent  his  lips  from  uttering  the  fatal  word,  "  You," 
prompted  by  his  indignant  conscience.  But  he  thought 
of  the  success  of  his  mission;  and,  instead  of  reply- 
ing, he  said, — 

"  To  a  prisoner,  madam,  to  an  unfortunate  man 
on  the  eve  of  judgment,  an  advocate  is  a  confessor, 
to  whom  he  tells  every  thing.  I  must  add  that  the 
counsel  of  the  accused  is  like  a  priest :  he  must  forget 
the  secrets  which  have  been  confided  to  him." 

"  I  do  not  understand,  sir." 

"  My  client,  madam,  had  a  very  simple  means  to 
prove  his  innocence.  He  had  only  to  tell  the  truth. 
He  has  preferred  risking  his  own  honor  rather  than 
to  betray  the  honor  of  another  person." 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE     447 
The  countess  looked  impatient,  and  broke  in,  say- 

ino- 

ill&' 

"  My  moments  are  counted,  sir.  May  I  beg  you 
will  be  more  explicit  ?  " 

But  M.  Folgat  had  gone  as  far  as  he  well  could  go. 

"  I  am  desired  by  M.  de  Boiscoran,  madam,  to 
hand  you  a  letter." 

The  Countess  Claudieuse  seemed  to  be  overwhelmed 
with  surprise. 

"  To  me  ?  "  she  said.     "  On  what  ground  ?  " 

Without  saying  a  word,  M.  Folgat  drew  Jacques's 
letter  from  his  portfolio,  and  handed  it  to  her. 

"  Here  it  is !  "  he  said. 

She  took  it  with  a  perfectly  steady  hand,  and  opened 
it  slowly.  But,  as  soon  as  she  had  run  her  eye  over 
it,  she  rose,  turned  crimson  in  her  face,  and  said  with 
flaming  eyes, — 

"  Do  you  know,  sir,  what  this  letter  contains  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  know  that  M.  de  Boiscoran  dares  call  me 
by  my  first  name,  Genevieve,  as  my  husband  does,  and 
my  father?" 

The  decisive  moment  had  come,  and  M.  Folgat  had 
all  his  self-possession. 

"  M.  de  Boiscoran,  madam,  claims  that  he  used  to 
call  you  so  in  former  days, — in  Vine  Street, — in  days 
when  you  called  him  Jacques." 

The  countess  seemed  to  be  utterly  bewildered. 

"  But  that  is  sheer  infamy,  sir,"  she  stammered. 
"  What !  M.  de  Boiscoran  should  have  dared  tell  you 
that  I,  the  Countess  Claudieuse,  have  been  his — mis- 
tress?" 

"  He  certainly  said  so,  madam ;  and  he  affirms,  that 
a  few  moments  before  the  fire  broke  out,  he  was  near 


448     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

you,  and  that,  if  his  hands  were  blackened,  it  was  be- 
cause he  had  burned  your  letters  and  his." 

She  rose  at  these  words,  and  said  in  a  penetrating 
voice, — 

"  And  you  could  believe  that, — you  ?  Ah !  M.  de 
Boiscoran's  other  crimes  are  nothing  in  comparison 
with  this?  He  is  not  satisfied  with  having  burnt  our 
house,  and  ruined  us :  he  means  to  dishonor  us.  He  is 
not  satisfied  with  having  murdered  my  husband :  he 
must  ruin  the  honor  of  his  wife  also." 

She  spoke  so  loud,  that  her  voice  must  have  been 
distinctly  heard  in  the  vestibule. 

"  Lower,  madam,  I  pray  you  speak  lower,"  said  M. 
Folgat. 

She  cast  upon  him  a  crushing  glance;  and,  raising 
her  voice  still  higher,  she  went  on, — 

"  Yes,  I  understand  very  well  that  you  are  afraid  of 
being  heard.  But  I — what  have  I  to  fear?  I  could 
wish  the  whole  world  to  hear  us,  and  to  judge  between 
us.  Lower,  you  say?  Why  should  I  speak  less  loud? 
Do  you  think  that  if  Count  Claudieuse  were  not  on 
his  death-bed,  this  letter  would  not  have  long  since 
been  in  his  hands?  Ah,  he  would  soon  have  satisfac- 
tion for  such  an  infamous  letter,  he !  But  I,  a  poor 
woman!  I  have  never  seen  so  clearly  that  the  world 
thinks  my  husband  is  lost  already,  and  that  I  am  alone 
in  this  world  without  a  protector,  without  friends." 

"  But,  madam,  M.  de  Boiscoran  pledges  himself  to 
the  most  perfect  secrecy." 

"  Secrecy  in  what  ?  In  your  cowardly  insults,  your 
abominable  plots,  of  which  this,  no  doubt,  is  but  a  be- 
ginning? " 

M.  Folgat  turned  livid  under  this  insult. 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE     449 

"  Ah,  take  care,  madam,'*  he  said  in  a  hoarse  voice : 
"  we  have  proof,  absolute,  overwhelming  proof." 

The  countess  stopped  him  by  an  imperious  gesture, 
and  with  the  haughtiest  disdain,  grief,  and  wrath,  she 
said, — 

"  Well,  then,  produce  your  proof.  Go,  hasten,  act 
as  you  like.  We  shall  see  if  the  vile  calumnies  of  an 
incendiary  can  stain  the  pure  reputation  of  an  honest 
woman.  We  shall  see  if  a  single  speck  of  this  mud  in 
which  you  wallow  can  reach  up  to  me." 

And,  throwing  Jacques's  letter  at  M.  Folgat's  feet, 
she  went  to  the  door. 

"  Madam,"  said  M.  Folgat  once  more, — "  madam  !  " 

She  did  not  even  condescend  to  turn  round :  she  dis- 
appeared, leaving  him  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  so  overcome  with  amazement,  that  he  could  not 
collect  his  thoughts.  Fortunately  Dr.  Seignebos  came 
in. 

"  Upon  my  word !  "  he  said,  "  I  never  thought  the 
countess  would  take  my  treachery  so  coolly.  When 
she  came  out  from  you  just  now,  she  asked  me,  in  the 
same  tone  as  every  day,  how  I  had  found  her  husband, 
and  what  was  to  be  done.  I  told  her  " — 

But  the  rest  of  the  sentence  remained  unspoken :  the 
doctor  had  become  aware  of  M.  Folgat's  utter  conster- 
nation. 

"  Why,  what  on  earth  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  young  advocate  looked  at  him  with  an  utterly 
bewildered  air. 

"  This  is  the  matter :  I  ask  myself  whether  I  am 
awake  or  dreaming.  This  is  the  matter:  that,  if  this 
woman  is  guilty,  she  possesses  an  audacity  beyond  all 
belief." 


450     WITHIN. AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  How,  if?  Have  you  changed  your  mind  about  her 
guilt?" 

M.  Folgat  looked  altogether  disheartened. 

"  Ah !  "  he  said,  "  I  hardly  know  myself.  Do  you 
not  see  that  I  have  lost  my  head,  that  I  do  not  know 
what  to  think,  and  what  to  believe  ?  " 

"  Oh !  " 

"  Yes,  indeed !  And  yet,  doctor,  I  am  not  a  simple- 
ton. I  have  now  been  pleading  five  years  in  criminal 
courts :  I  have  had  to  dive  down  into  the  lowest  depths 
of  society;  I  have  seen  strange  things,  and  met  with 
exceptional  specimens,  and  heard  fabulous  stories  " — 

It  was  the  doctor's  turn,  now,  to  be  amazed ;  and  he 
actually  forgot  to  trouble  his  gold  spectacles. 

"  Why  ?    What  did  the  countess  say  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  might  tell  you  every  word,"  replied  M.  Folgat, 
"  and  you  would  be  none  the  wiser.  You  ought  to  have 
been  here,  and  seen  her,  and  heard  her !  What  a 
woman !  Not  a  muscle  in  her  face  was  moving ;  her 
eye  remained  limpid  and  clear;  no  emotion  was  felt  in 
her  voice.  And  with  what  an  air  she  defied  me !  But 
come,  doctor,  let  us  be  gone !  " 

They  went  out,  and  had  already  gone  about  a  third 
down  the  long  avenue  in  the  garden,  when  they  saw 
the  oldest  daughter  of  the  countess  coming  towards 
them,  on  her  way  to  the  house,  accompanied  by  her 
governess.  Dr.  Seignebos  stopped,  and  pressing  the 
arm  of  the  young  advocate,  and  bending  over  to  him, 
he  whispered  into  his  ear, — 

"  Mind !  "  he  said.  "  You  know  truth  is  in  the  lips 
of  children." 

"  What  do  you  expect  ?  "  murmured  M.  Folgat. 

"  To  settle  a  doubtful  point.  Hush !  Let  me  man- 
age it." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     451 

By  this  time  the  little  girl  had  come  up  to  them. 
It  was  a  very  graceful  girl  of  eight  or  nine  years,  light 
haired,  with  large  blue  eyes,  tall  for  her  age,  and  dis- 
playing all  the  intelligence  of  a  young  girl,  without 
her  timidity. 

"  How  are  you,  little  Martha  ?  "  said  the  doctor  to 
her  in  his  gentlest  voice,  which  was  very  soft  when  he 
chose. 

"  Good-morning,  gentlemen !  "  she  replied  with  a 
nice  little  courtesy. 

Dr.  Seignebos  bent  down  to  kiss  her  rosy  cheeks, 
and  then,  looking  at  her,  he  said, — 

"You  look  sad,  Martha?" 

"  Yes,  because  papa  and  little  sister  are  sick,"  she 
replied  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"  And  also  because  you  miss  Valpinson  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  " 

"  Still  it  is  very  pretty  here,  and  you  have  a  large 
garden  to  play  in." 

She  shook  her  head,  and,  lowering  her  voice,  she 
said, — 

"  It  is  certainly  very  pretty  here ;  but — I  am  afraid." 

"  And  of  what,  little  one  ?  " 

She  pointed  at  the  statues,  and  all  shuddering,  she 
said, — 

"  In  the  evening,  when  it  grows  dark,  I  fancy  they 
are  moving.  I  think  I  see  people  hiding  behind  the 
trees,  like  the  man  who  wanted  to  kill  papa." 

"  You  ought  to  drive  away  those  ugly  notions,  Miss 
Martha,"  said  M.  Folgat. 

But  Dr.  Seignebos  did  not  allow  him  to  go  on. 

"  What,  Martha  ?  I  did  not  know  you  were  so  timid. 
I  thought,  on  the  contrary,  you  were  very  brave.  Your 


452     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

papa  told  me  the  night  of  the  fire  you  were  not  afraid 
of  any  thing." 

"  Papa  was  right." 

"  And  yet,  when  you  were  aroused  by  the  flames, 
it  must  have  been  terrible." 

"  Oh !  it  was  not  the  flames  which  waked  me, 
doctor." 

"  Still  the  fire  had  broken  out." 

"  I  was  not  asleep  at  that  time,  doctor.  I  had  been 
roused  by  the  slamming  of  the  door,  which  mamma 
had  closed  very  noisily  when  she  came  in." 

One  and  the  same  presentiment  made  M.  Folgat 
tremble  and  the  doctor. 

"  You  must  be  mistaken,  Martha,"  the  doctor  went 
on.  "  Your  mamma  had  not  come  back  at  the  time 
of  the  fire." 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir !  " 

"  No,  you  are  mistaken." 

The  little  girl  drew  herself  up  with  that  solemn  air 
which  children  are  apt  to  assume  when  their  statements 
are  doubted.  She  said, — 

"  I  am  quite  sure  of  what  I  say,  and  I  remember 
every  thing  perfectly.  I  had  been  put  to  bed  at  the 
usual  hour,  and,  as  I  was  very  tired  with  playing,  I 
had  fallen  asleep  at  once.  Whilst  I  was  asleep,  mamma 
had  gone  out ;  but  her  coming  back  waked  me  up.  As 
soon  as  she  came  in,  she  bent  over  little  sister's  bed, 
and  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  so  sadly,  that  I  thought 
I  should  cry.  Then  she  went,  and  sat  down  by  the  win- 
dow ;  and  from  my  bed,  where  I  lay  silently  watching 
her,  I  saw  the  tears  running  down  her  cheeks,  when 
all  of  a  sudden  a  shot  was  fired." 

M.  Folgat  and  Dr.  Seignebos  looked  anxiously  at 
each  other. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     453 

"  Then,  my  little  one,"  insisted  Dr.  Seignebos,  "  you 
are  quite  sure  your  mamma  was  in  your  room  when 
the  first  shot  was  fired  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  doctor.  And  mamma,  when  she  heard 
it,  rose  up  straight,  and  lowered  her  head,  like  one  who 
listens.  Almost  immediately,  the  second  shot  was  fired. 
Mamma  raised  her  hands  to  heaven,  and  cried  out. 
*  Great  God ! '  And  then  she  went  out,  running  fast." 

Never  was  a  smile  more  false  than  that  which  Dr. 
Seignebos  forced  himself  to  retain  on  his  lips  while 
the  little  girl  was  telling  her  story. 

"  You  have  dreamed  all  that,  Martha,"  he  said. 

The  governess  here  interposed,  saying, — 

"  The  young  lady  has  not  dreamed  it,  sir.  I,  also, 
heard  the  shots  fired;  and  I  had  just  opened  the  door 
of  my  room  to  hear  what  was  going  on,  when  I  saw 
madame  cross  the  landing  swiftly,  and  rush  down 
stairs. 

"  Oh !  I  do  not  doubt  it,"  said  the  doctor,  in  the  most 
indifferent  tone  he  could  command :  "  the  circumstance 
is  very  trifling." 

But  the  little  girl  was  bent  upon  finishing  her  story. 

"  When  mamma  had  left,"  she  went  on,  "  I  became 
frightened,  and  raised  myself  on  my  bed  to  listen. 
Soon  I  heard  a  noise  which  I  did  not  know, — crack- 
ing and  snapping  of  wood,  and  then  cries  at  a  distance. 
I  got  more  frightened,  jumped  down,  and  ran  to  open 
the  door.  But  I  nearly  fell  down,  there  was  such  a 
cloud  of  smoke  and  sparks.  Still  I  did  not  lose  my 
head.  I  waked  my  little  sister,  and  tried  to  get  on  the 
staircase,  when  Cocoleu  rushed  in  like  a  madman,  and 
took  us  both  out." 

"  Martha,"  called  a  voice  from  the  house, 
"  Martha !  " 


454     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

The  child  cut  short  her  story,  and  said, — 

"  Mamma  is  calling  me." 

And,  dropping  again  her  nice  little  courtesy,  she 
said, — 

"  Good-by,  gentlemen !  " 

Martha  had  disappeared ;  and  Dr.  Seignebos  and  M. 
Folgat,  still  standing  on  the  same  spot,  looked  at  each 
other  in  utter  distress. 

"  We  have  nothing  more  to  do  here,"  said  M.  Folgat. 

"  No,  indeed !  Let  us  go  back  and  make  haste ;  for 
perhaps  they  are  waiting  for  me.  You  must  breakfast 
with  me." 

They  went  away  very  much  disheartened,  and  so  ab- 
sorbed in  their  defeat,  that  they  forgot  to  return  the 
salutations  with  which  they  were  greeted  in  the  street, 
— a  circumstance  carefully  noticed  by  several  watchful 
observers. 

When  the  doctor  reached  home,  he  said  to  his 
servant, — 

"  This  gentleman  will  breakfast  with  me.  Give  us  a 
bottle  of  medis." 

And,  when  he  had  shown  the  advocate  into  his  study, 
he  asked, — 

"  And  now  what  do  you  think  of  your  adventure  ?  " 

M.  Folgat  looked  completely  undone. 

"  I  cannot  understand  it,"  he  murmured. 

"  Could  it  be  possible  that  the  countess  should  have 
tutored  the  child  to  say  what  she  told  us  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  And  her  governess?" 

"  Still  less.  A  woman  of  that  character  trusts  no- 
body. She  struggles ;  she  triumphs  or  succumbs  alone." 

"  Then  the  child  and  the  governess  have  told  us  the 
truth?" 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     455 

"  I  am  convinced  of  that." 

"  So  am  I.  Then  she  had  no  share  in  the  murder 
of  her  husband?" 

"  Alas !  " 

M.  Folgat  did  not  notice  that  his  "  Alas !  "  was  re- 
ceived by  Dr.  Seignebos  with  an  air  of  triumph.  He 
had  taken  off  his  spectacles,  and,  wiping  them  vigor- 
ously, he  said, — 

"  If  the  countess  is  innocent,  Jacques  must  be  guilty, 
you  think  ?  Jacques  must  have  deceived  us  all,  then  ?  " 

M.  Folgat  shook  his  head. 

"  I  pray  you,  doctor,  do  not  press  me  just  now.  Give 
me  time  to  collect  my  thoughts.  I  am  bewildered  by 
all  these  conjectures.  No,  I  am  sure  M.  de  Boiscoran 
has  not  told  a  falsehood,  and  the  countess  has  been  his 
mistress.  No,  he  has  not  deceived  us ;  and  on  the  night 
of  the  crime  he  really  had  an  interview  with  the  count- 
ess. Did  not  Martha  tell  us  that  her  mother  had  gone 
out?  And  where  could  she  have  gone,  except  to  meet 
M.  de  Boiscoran?" 

He  paused  a  moment. 

"  Oh,  come,  come !  "  said  the  physician,  "  you  need 
not  be  afraid  of  me." 

"  Well,  it  might  possibly  be,  that,  after  the  countess 
had  left  M.  de  Boiscoran,  Fate  might  have  stepped  in. 
Jacques  has  told  us  how  the  letters  which  he  was  burn- 
ing had  suddenly  blazed  up,  and  with  such  violence 
that  he  was  frightened.  Who  can  tell  whether  some 
burning  fragments  may  not  have  set  a  straw-rick  on 
fire?  You  can  judge  yourself.  On  the  point  of  leav- 
ing the  place,  M.  de  Boiscoran  sees  this  beginning  of  a 
fire.  He  hastens  to  put  it  out.  His  efforts  are  unsuc- 
cessful. The  fire  increases  step  by  step:  it  lights  up 
the  whole  front  of  the  chateau.  At  that  moment  Count 


456     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

Claudieuse  comes  out.  Jacques  thinks  he  has  been 
watched  and  detected ;  he  sees  his  marriage  broken  off, 
his  life  ruined,  his  happiness  destroyed ;  he  loses  his 
head,  aims,  fires,  and  flees  instantly.  And  thus  you  ex- 
plain his  missing  the  count,  and  also  this  fact,  which 
seemed  to  preclude  the  idea  of  premeditated  murder, 
that  the  gun  was  loaded  with  small-shot." 

"  Great  God !  "  cried  the  doctor. 

"  What,  what  have  I  said  ?  " 

"  Take  care  never  to  repeat  that !  The  suggestion 
you  make  is  so  fearfully  plausible,  that,  if  it  becomes 
known,  no  one  will  ever  believe  you  when  you  tell  the 
real  truth." 

"  The  truth  ?    Then  you  think  I  am  mistaken  ?  " 

"  Most  assuredly/' 

Then  fixing  his  spectacles  on  his  nose,  Dr.  Seigne- 
bos  added, — 

"  I  never  could  admit  that  the  countess  should  have 
fired  at  her  husband.  I  now  see  that  I  was  right.  She 
has  not  committed  the  crime  directly ;  but  she  has  done 
it  indirectly." 

"  Oh !  " 

"  She  would  not  be  the  first  woman  who  has  done  so. 
What  I  imagine  is  this :  the  countess  had  made  up  her 
mind,  and  arranged  her  plan,  before  meeting  Jacques. 
The  murderer  was  already  at  his  post.  If  she  had  suc- 
ceeded in  winning  Jacques  back,  her  accomplice  would 
have  put  away  his  gun,  and  quietly  gone  to  bed.  As 
she  could  not  induce  Jacques  to  give  up  his  marriage, 
she  made  a  sign,  and  the  fire  was  lighted,  and  the  count 
was  shot." 

The  young  advocate  did  not  seem  to  be  fully  con- 
vinced. 

"  In  that  case,  there  would  have  been  premeditation," 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     457 

he  objected ;  "  and  how,  then,  came  the  gun  to  be  loaded 
with  small-shot  ?  " 

"  The  accomplice  had  not  sense  enough  to  know  bet- 
ter." 

Although  he  saw  very  well  the  doctor's  drift,  M. 
Folgat  started  up, — 

"  What?  "  he  said,  "  always  Cocoleu ? " 

Dr.  Seignebos  tapped  his  forehead  with  the  end  of 
his  finger,  and  replied, — 

"  When  an  idea  has  once  made  its  way  in  there,  it  re- 
mains fixed.  Yes,  the  countess  has  an  accomplice ;  and 
that  accomplice  is  Cocoleu ;  and,  if  he  has  no  sense,  you 
see  the  wretched  idiot  at  least  carries  his  devotion  and 
his  discretion  very  far." 

"  If  what  you  say  is  true,  doctor,  we  shall  never  get 
the  key  of  this  affair ;  for  Cocoleu  will  never  confess." 

"  Don't  swear  to  that.    There  is  a  way." 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  sudden  entrance  of  his 
servant. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  latter,  "  there  is  a  gendarme  below 
who  brings  you  a  man  who  has  to  be  sent  to  the  hos- 
pital at  once." 

"  Show  them  up,"  said  the  doctor. 

And,  while  the  servant  was  gone  to  do  his  bidding, 
the  doctor  said, — 

"  And  here  is  the  way.    Now  mind !  " 

A  heavy  step  was  heard  shaking  the  stairs;  and  al- 
most immediately  a  gendarme  appeared,  who  in  one 
hand  held  a  violin,  and  with  the  other  aided  a  poor 
creature,  who  seemed  unable  to  walk  alone. 

"  Goudar !  "  was  on  M.  Folgat's  lips. 

It  was  Goudar,  really,  but  in  what  a  state !  His 
clothes  muddy  and  torn,  pale,  with  haggard  eyes,  his 
beard  and  his  lips  covered  with  a  white  foam. 


458     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  The  story  is  this,"  said  the  gendarme.  "  This  in- 
dividual was  playing  the  fiddle  in  the  court  of  the  bar- 
rack, and  we  were  looking  out  of  the  window,  when  all 
of  a  sudden  he  fell  on  the  ground,  rolled  about,  twisted 
and  writhed,  while  he  uttered  fearful  howls,  and 
foamed  like  a  mad  dog.  We  picked  him  up;  and  I 
bring  him  to  you." 

"  Leave  us  alone  with  him,"  said  the  physician. 

The  gendarme  went  out;  and,  as  soon  as  the  door 
was  shut,  Goudar  cried  with  a  voice  full  of  intense 
disgust, — 

"  What  a  profession !  Just  look  at  me !  What  a  dis- 
grace if  my  wife  should  see  me  in  this  state !  Phew !  " 

And,  pulling  a  handkerchief  from  his  pocket,  he 
wiped  his  face,  and  drew  from  his  mouth  a  small  piece 
of  soap. 

"  But  the  point  is,"  said  the  doctor,  "  that  you  have 
played  the  epileptic  so  well,  that  the  gendarmes  have 
been  taken  in." 

"  A  fine  trick  indeed,  and  very  creditable." 

"  An  excellent  trick,  since  you  can  now  quite  safely 
go  to  the  hospital.  They  will  put  you  in  the  same  ward 
with  Cocoleu,  and  I  shall  come  and  see  you  every 
morning.  You  are  free  to  act  now." 

"  Never  mind  me,"  said  the  detective.  "  I  have  my 
plan." 

Then  turning  to  M.  Folgat,  he  added, — 

"  I  am  a  prisoner  now ;  but  I  have  taken  my  pre- 
cautions. The  agent  whom  I  have  sent  to  England 
will  report  to  you.  I  have,  besides,  to  ask  a  favor  at 
your  hands.  I  have  written  to  my  wife  to  send  her  let- 
ters to  you:  you  can  send  them  to  me  by  the  doctor. 
And  now  I  am  ready  to  become  Cocoleu's  companion, 
and  I  mean  to  earn  the  house  in  Vine  Street." 


459 

Dr.  Seignebos  signed  an  order  of  admission.  He  re- 
called the  gendarme ;  and,  after  having  praised  his 
kindness,  he  asked  him  to  take  "  that  poor  devil  "  to  the 
hospital.  When  he  was  alone  once  more  with  M.  Fol- 
gat,  he  said, — 

"  Now,  my  dear  friend,  let  us  consult.  Shall  we 
speak  of  what  Martha  has  told  us  and  of  Goudar's  plan. 
I  think  not ;  for  M.  Galpin  is  watching  us ;  and,  if  a. 
mere  suspicion  of  what  is  going  on  reaches  the  prose- 
cution, all  is  lost.  Let  us  content  ourselves,  then,  with 
reporting  to  Jacques  your  interview  with  the  countess  ; 
and  as  to  the  rest,  Silence  !  " 


XXVI. 

LIKE  all  very  clever  men,  Dr.  Seignebos  made  the 
mistake  of  thinking  other  people  as  cunning  as  he  was 
himself.  M.  Galpin  was,  of  course,  watching  him,  but 
by  no  means  with  the  energy  which  one  would  have 
expected  from  so  ambitious  a  man.  He  had,  of  course, 
been  the  first  to  be  notified  that  the  case  was  to  be  tried 
in  open  court,  and  from  that  moment  he  felt  relieved  of 
all  anxiety. 

As  to  remorse,  he  had  none.  He  did  not  even  re- 
gret any  thing.  He  did  not  think  of  it,  that  the  pris- 
oner who  was  thus  to  be  tried  had  once  been  his  friend, 
— a  friend  of  whom  he  was  proud,  whose  hospitality 
he  had  enjoyed,  and  whose  favor  he  had  eagerly  sought 
in  his  matrimonial  aspirations.  No.  He  only  saw  one 
thing, — that  he  had  engaged  in  a  dangerous  affair,  on 
which  his  whole  future  was  depending,  and  that  he  was 
going  to  win  triumphantly. 

Evidently  his  responsibility  was  by  no  means  gone; 


460     WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

but  his  zeal  in  preparing  the  case  for  trial  was  no 
longer  required.  He  need  not  appear  at  the  trial. 
Whatever  must  be  the  result,  he  thought  he  would  es- 
cape the  blame,  which  he  should  surely  have  incurred  if 
no  true  bill  had  been  found.  He  did  not  disguise  it 
from  himself  that  he  should  be  looked  at  askance  by 
all  Sauveterre,  that  his  social  relations  were  well-nigh 
broken  off,  and  that  no  one  would  henceforth  heartily 
shake  hands  with  him.  But  that  gave  him  no  concern. 
Sauveterre,  a  miserable  little  town  of  five  thousand  in- 
habitants !  He  hoped  with  certainty  he  would  not  re- 
main there  long;  and  a  brilliant  preferment  would 
amply  repay  him  for  his  courage,  and  relieve  him  from 
all  foolish  reproaches. 

Besides,  once  in  the  large  city  to  which  he  would  be 
promoted,  he  could  hope  that  distance  would  aid  in  at- 
tenuating and  even  effacing  the  impression  made  by 
his  conduct.  All  that  would  be  remembered  after  a 
time  would  be  his  reputation  as  one  of  those  famous 
judges,  who,  according  to  the  stereotyped  phrase,  "  sac- 
rifice every  thing  to  the  sacred  interests  of  justice,  who 
put  inflexible  duty  high  above  all  the  considerations 
that  trouble  and  disturb  the  vulgar  mind,  and  whose 
heart  is  like  a  rock,  against  which  all  human  passions 
are  helplessly  broken  to  pieces." 

With  such  a  reputation,  with  his  knowledge  of  the 
world,  and  his  eagerness  to  succeed,  opportunities 
would  not  be  wanting  to  put  himself  forward,  to  make 
himself  known,  to  become  useful,  indispensable  even. 
He  saw  himself  already  on  the  highest  rungs  of  the  of- 
ficial ladder.  He  was  a  judge  in  Bordeaux,  in  Lyons, 
in  Paris  itself ! 

With  such  rose-colored  dreams  he  fell  asleep  at 
night.  The  next  morning,  as  he  crossed  the  streets,  his 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     461 

carriage  haughtier  and  stiffer  than  ever,  his  firmly- 
closed  lips,  and  the  cold  and  severe  look  of  his  eyes, 
told  the  curious  observers  that  there  must  be  something 
new. 

"  M.  de  Boiscoran's  case  must  be  very  bad  indeed," 
they  said,  "  or  M.  Galpin  would  not  look  so  very 
proud." 

He  went  first  to  the  commonwealth  attorney.  The 
truth  is,  he  was  still  smarting  under  the  severe  re- 
proaches of  M.  Daubigeon,  and  he  thought  he  would 
enjoy  his  revenge  now.  He  found  the  old  book- worm, 
as  usual,  among  his  beloved  books,  and  in  worse  humor 
than  ever.  He  ignored  it,  handed  him  a  number  of  pa- 
pers to  sign ;  and  when  his  business  was  over,  and  while 
he  was  carefully  replacing  the  documents  in  his  bag 
with  his  monogram  on  the  outside,  he  added  with  an 
air  of  indifference, — 

"  Well,  my  dear  sir,  you  have  heard  the  decision  of 
the  court?  Which  of  us  was  right?" 

M.  Daubigeon  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said  an- 
grily,— 

"  Of  course  I  am  nothing  but  an  old  fool,  a  maniac : 
I  give  it  up ;  and  I  say,  like  Horace's  man, — 

'  Stultum  me  fateor,  liceat  concedere  vires 
Atque  etiam  insanum.' " 

"  You  are  joking.  But  what  would  have  happened 
if  I  had  listened  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  care  to  know." 

"  M.  de  Boiscoran  would  none  the  less  have  been 
sent  to  a  jury." 

"  May  be." 

"Anybody  else  would  have  collected  the  proofs  of 
his  guilt  just  as  well  as  I." 


462     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  That  is  a  question." 

"  And  I  should  have  injured  my  reputation  very  se- 
riously; for  they  would  have  called  me  one  of  those 
timid  magistrates  who  are  frightened  at  a  nothing." 

"  That  is  as  good  a  reputation  as  some  others," 
"broke  in  the  commonwealth  attorney. 

He  had  vowed  he  would  answer  only  in  monosyl- 
lables; but  his  anger  made  him  forget  his  oath.  He 
added  in  a  very  severe  tone, — 

"  Another  man  would  not  have  been  bent  exclusively 
upon  proving  that  M.  de  Boiscoran  was  guilty." 

"  I  certainly  have  proved  it." 

"Another  man  would  have  tried  to  solve  the  mys- 
tery." 

"  But  I  have  solved  it,  I  should  think." 

M.  Daubigeon  bowed  ironically,  and  said, — 

"  I  congratulate  you.  It  must  be  delightful  to  know 
the  secret  of  all  things, 

'  Felix  qui  potuit  rerum  cognoscere  causas,' 

only  you  may  be  mistaken.  You  are  an  excellent  hand 
at  such  investigations ;  but  I  am  an  older  man  than  you 
in  the  profession.  The  more  I  think  of  this  case,  the 
less  I  understand  it.  If  you  know  every  thing  so  per- 
fectly well,  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  could  have 
been  the  motive  for  the  crime,  for,  after  all,  we  do  not 
run  the  risk  of  losing  our  head  without  some  very  pow- 
erful and  tangible  purpose.  Where  was  Jacques's  in- 
terest? You  will  tell  me  he  hated  Count  Claudieuse. 
But  is  that  an  answer.  Come,  go  for  a  moment  to  your 
own  conscience.  But  stop !  No  one  likes  to  do  that. 

'Nemo  in  se  tentat  descendere.'" 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     463 

M.  Galpin  was  beginning  to  regret  that  he  had  ever 
come.  He  had  hoped  to  find  M.  Daubigeon  quite  peni- 
tent, and  here  he  was  worse  than  ever. 

"  The  Court  of  Inquiry  has  felt  no  such  scruples," 
he  said  dryly. 

"  No;  but  the  jury  may  feel  some.  They  are,  occa- 
sionally, men  of  sense." 

"  The  jury  will  condemn  M.  de  Boiscoran  without 
hesitation." 

"  I  would  not  swear  to  that." 

"  You  would  if  you  knew  who  will  plead." 

"  Oh !  " 

"  The  prosecution  will  employ  M.  Gransiere !  " 

"Oh,  oh!" 

"  You  will  not  deny  that  he  is  a  first-class  man  ?  " 

The  magistrate  was  evidently  becoming  angry;  his 
ears  reddened  up ;  and  in  the  same  proportion  M.  Dau- 
bigeon regained  his  calmness. 

"  God  forbid  that  I  should  deny  M.  Gransiere's  elo- 
quence. He  is  a  powerful  speaker,  and  rarely  misses 
his  man.  But  then,  you  know,  cases  are  like  books : 
they  have  their  luck  or  ill  luck,  habent  sua  fata. 
Jacques  will  be  well  defended." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  M.  Magloire." 

"ButM.  Folgat?" 

"  A  young  man  with  no  weight.  I  should  be  far 
more  afraid  of  M.  Lachant." 

"  Do  you  know  the  plan  of  the  defence  ?  " 

This  was  evidently  the  place  where  the  shoe  pinched ; 
but  M.  Galpin  took  care  not  to  let  it  be  seen,  and  re- 
plied,— 

"  I  do  not.  But  that  does  not  matter.  M.  de  Bois- 
coran's  friends  at  first  thought  of  making  capital  out 
of  Cocoleu;  but  they  have  given  that  up.  I  am  sure 


464     WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

of  that!  The  police-agent  whom  I  have  charged  to 
keep  his  eyes  on  the  idiot  tells  me  that  Dr.  Seignebos 
does  not  trouble  himself  about  the  man  any  more." 

M.  Daubigeon  smiled  sarcastically,  and  said,  much 
more  for  the  purpose  of  teasing  his  visitor  than  because 
he  believed  it  himself, — 

"  Take  care !  do  not  trust  appearances.  You  have  to 
do  with  very  clever  people.  I  always  told  you  Cocoleu 
is  probably  the  mainspring  of  the  whole  case.  The 
very  fact  that  M.  Gransiere  will  speak  ought  to  make 
you  tremble.  If  he  should  not  succeed,  he  would,  of 
course,  blame  you,  and  never  forgive  you  in  all  his  life. 
Now,  you  know  he  may  fail.  '  There  is  many  a  slip 
between  the  cup  and  the  lip.' 

'  Multa  cadunt  inter  calicem  supremaque  labra.' 
"And  I  am  disposed  to  think  with  Villon, — 
'  Nothing  is  so  certain  as  uncertain  things.' " 

M.  Galpin  could  fell  very  well  that  he  should  gain 
nothing  by  prolonging  the  discussion,  and  so  he  said, — 

"  Happen  what  may,  I  shall  always  know  that  my 
conscience  supports  me." 

Then  he  made  great  haste  to  take  leave,  lest  an  an- 
swer should  come  from  M.  Daubigeon.  He  went  out ; 
and  as  he  descended  the  stairs,  he  said  to  himself, — 

"  It  is  losing  time  to  reason  with  an  old  fogy  who 
sees  in  the  events  of  the  day  only  so  many  opportunities 
for  quotations." 

But  he  struggled  in  vain  against  his  own  feelings :  he 
had  lost  his  self-confidence.  M.  Daubigeon  had  re- 
vealed to  him  a  new  danger  which  he  had  not  foreseen. 
And  what  a  danger! — the  resentment  of  one  of  the 
most  eminent  men  of  the  French  bar,  one  of  those  bit- 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     465 

ter,  bilious  men  who  never  forgive.  M.  Galpin  had,  no 
doubt,  thought  of  the  possibility  of  failure,  that  is  to 
say,  of  an  acquittal;  but  he  had  never  considered  the 
consequences  of  such  a  check. 

Who  would  have  to  pay  for  it  ?  The  prosecuting  at- 
torney first  and  foremost,  because,  in  France,  the  prose- 
cuting attorney  makes  the  accusation  a  personal  mat- 
ter, and  considers  himself  insulted  and  humiliated,  if  he 
misses  his  man. 

Now,  what  would  happen  in  such  a  case  ? 

M.  Gransiere,  no  doubt,  would  hold  him  responsible. 
He  would  say, — 

"  I  had  to  draw  my  arguments  from  your  part  of  the 
work.  I  did  not  obtain  a  condemnation,  because  your 
work  was  imperfect.  A  man  like  myself  ought  not  to  be 
exposed  to  such  an  humiliation,  and,  least  of  all,  in  a 
case  which  is  sure  to  create  an  immense  sensation. 
You  do  not  understand  your  business." 

Such  words  were  a  public  disgrace.  Instead  of  the 
hoped-for  promotion,  they  would  bring  him  an  order 
to  go  into  exile,  to  Corsica,  or  to  Algiers. 

M.  Galpin  shuddered  at  the  idea.  He  saw  himself 
buried  under  the  ruins  of  his  castles  in  Spain.  And, 
unluckily,  he  went  once  more  over  all  the  papers  of  the 
investigation,  analyzing  the  evidence  he  had,  like  a 
soldier,  who,  on  the  eve  of  a  battle,  furbishes  up  his 
arms.  However,  he  only  found  one  objection,  the  same 
which  M.  Daubigeon  had  made, — what  interest  could 
Jacques  have  had  in  committing  so  great  a  crime? 

"  There,"  he  said,  "  is  evidently  the  weak  part  of  the 
armor ;  and  I  would  do  well  to  point  it  out  to  M.  Gran- 
siere. Jacques's  counsel  are  capable  of  making  that  the 
turning-point  of  their  plea." 

And,  in  spite  of  all  he  had  said  to  M.  Daubigeon,  he 


466     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

was  very  much  afraid  of  the  counsel  for  the  defence. 
He  knew  perfectly  well  the  prestige  which  M.  Magloire 
derived  from  his  integrity  and  disinterestedness.  It 
was  no  secret  to  him,  that  a  cause  which  M.  Magloire 
espoused  was  at  once  considered  a  good  cause.  They 
said  of  him, — 

"  He  may  be  mistaken ;  but  whatever  he  says  he  be- 
lieves." He  could  not  but  have  a  powerful  influence, 
therefore,  not  on  judges  who  came  into  court  with 
well-established  opinions,  but  with  jurymen  who  are 
under  the  influence  of  the  moment,  and  may  be  carried 
off  by  the  eloquence  of  a  speech.  It  is  true,  M.  Ma- 
gloire did  not  possess  that  burning  eloquence  which 
thrills  a  crowd ;  but  M.  Folgat  had  it,  and  in  an  uncom- 
mon degree.  M.  Galpin  had  made  inquiries;  and  one 
of  his  Paris  friends  had  written  to  him, — 

"  Mistrust  Folgat.  He  is  a  far  more  dangerous  lo- 
gician than  Lachant,  and  possesses  the  same  skill  in 
troubling  the  consciences  of  jurymen,  in  moving  them, 
drawing  tears  from  them,  and  forcing  them  into  an 
acquittal.  Mind,  especially,  any  incidents  that  may 
happen  during  the  trial ;  for  he  has  always  some  kind 
of  surprise  in  reserve/' 

"  These  are  my  adversaries,"  thought  M.  Galpin. 
"  What  surprise,  I  wonder,  is  there  in  store  for  me  ? 
Have  they  really  given  up  all  idea  of  using  Cocoleu  ?  " 

He  had  no  reason  for  mistrusting  his  agent ;  and  yet 
his  apprehensions  became  so  serious,  that  he  went  out 
of  his  way  to  look  in  at  the  hospital.  The  lady  su- 
perior received  him,  as  a  matter  of  course,  with  all 
the  signs  of  profound  respect ;  and,  when  he  inquired 
about  Cocoleu,  she  added, — 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  him?  " 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     467 

"  I  confess  I  should  be  very  glad  to  do  so." 

"  Come  with  me,  then." 

She  took  him  into  the  garden,  a*nd  there  asked  a 
gardener, — 

"  Where  is  the  idiot  ?  " 

The  man  put  his  spade  into  the  ground;  and,  with 
that  affected  reverence  which  characterizes  all  persons 
employed  in  a  convent,  he  answered, — 

"  The  idiot  is  down  there  in  the  middle  avenue, 
mother,  in  his  usual  place,  you  know,  which  nothing 
will  induce  him  to  leave." 

M.  Galpin  and  the  lady  superior  found  him  there. 
They  had  taken  off  the  rags  which  he  wore  when  he 
was  admitted,  and  put  him  into  the  hospital-dress, 
which  was  a  large  gray  coat  and  a  cotton  cap.  He 
did  not  look  any  the  more  intelligent  for  that;  but  he 
was  less  repulsive.  He  was  seated  on  the  ground, 
playing  with  the  gravel. 

"  Well,  my  boy,"  asked  M.  Galpin,  "  how  do  you  like 
this?" 

He  raised  his  inane  face,  and  fixed  his  dull  eye  on  the 
lady  superior;  but  he  made  no  reply. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  back  to  Valpinson  ?  "  asked 
the  lawyer  again.  He  shuddered,  but  did  not  open  his 
lips. 

"  Look  here,"  said  M.  Galpin,  "  answer  me,  and  I'll 
give  you  a  ten-cent  piece." 

No :  Cocoleu  was  at  his  play  again. 

"  That  is  the  way  he  is  always,"  declared  the  lady 
superior.  "  Since  he  is  here,  no  one  has  ever  gotten  a 
word  out  of  him.  Promises,  threats,  nothing  has  any 
effect.  One  day  I  thought  I  would  try  an  experiment ; 
and,  instead  of  letting  him  have  his  breakfast,  I  said 
to  him,  '  You  shall  have  nothing  to  eat  till  you  say,  "  I 


468     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

am  hungry."  '  At  the  end  of  twenty-four  hours  I  had 
to  let  him  have  his  pittance ;  for  he  would  have  starved 
himself  sooner  than  utter  a  word." 

"What  does  Dr.  Seignebos  think  of  him?" 

"  The  doctor  does  not  want  to  hear  his  name  men- 
tioned," replied  the  lady  superior. 

And,  raising  her  eyes  to  heaven,  she  added, — 

"And  that  is  a  clear  proof,  that,  but  for  the  direct 
intervention  of  Providence,  the  poor  creature  would 
never  have  denounced  the  crime  which  he  had  wit- 
nessed." 

Immediately,  however,  she  returned  to  earthly  things, 
and  asked, — 

"  But  will  you  not  relieve  us  soon  of  this  poor 
idiot,  who  is  a  heavy  charge  on  our  hospital?  Why 
not  send  him  back  to  his  village,  where  he  found  his 
support  before?  We  have  quite  a  number  of  sick  and 
poor,  and  very  little  room." 

"  We  must  wait,  sister,  till  M.  de  Boiscoran's  trial  is 
finished,"  replied  the  magistrate. 

The  lady  superior  looked  resigned,  and  said, — 

"  That  is  what  the  mayor  told  me,  and  it  is  very 
provoking,  I  must  say :  however,  they  have  allowed  me 
to  turn  him  out  of  the  room  which  they  had  given  him 
at  first.  I  have  sent  him  to  the  Insane  Ward.  That  is 
the  name  we  give  to  a  few  little  rooms,  enclosed  by  a 
wall,  where  we  keep  the  poor  insane,  who  are  sent  to 
us  provisionally." 

Here  she  was  interrupted  by  the  janitor  of  the  hos- 
pital, who  came  up,  bowing. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  she  asked. 

Vaudevin,  the  janitor,  handed  her  a  note. 

"  A  man  brought  by  a  gendarme,"  he  replied.  "  Im- 
mediately to  be  admitted." 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     469 

The  lady  superior  read  the  note,  signed  by  Dr. 
Seignebos. 

"  Epileptic,"  she  said,  "  and  somewhat  idiotic :  as  if 
we  wanted  any  more !  And  a  stranger  into  the  bar- 
gain !  Really  Dr.  Seignebos  is  too  yielding.  Why  does 
he  not  send  all  these  people  to  their  own  parish  to  be 
taken  care  of  ?  " 

And,  with  a  very  elastic  step  for  her  age,  she  went  to 
the  parlor,  followed  by  M.  Galpin  and  the  janitor. 
They  had  put  the  new  patient  in  there,  and,  sunk  upon 
a  bench,  he  looked  the  picture  of  utter  idiocy.  After 
having  looked  at  him  for  a  minute,  she  said, — 

"  Put  him  into  the  Insane  Ward :  he  can  keep  Coco- 
leu  company.  And  let  the  sister  know  at  the  drug- 
room.  But  no,  I  will  go  myself.  You  will  excuse  me, 
sir." 

And  then  she  left  the  room.  M.  Galpin  was  much 
comforted. 

"  There  is  no  danger  here,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  And,  if  M.  Folgat  counts  upon  any  incident  during 
the  trial,  Cocoleu,  at  all  events,  will  not  furnish  it  to 
him." 


XXVII. 

AT  the  same  hour  when  the  magistrate  left  the  hos- 
pital, Dr.  Seignebos  and  M.  Folgat  parted,  after  a  fru- 
gal breakfast, — the  one  to  visit  his  patients,  the  other 
to  go  to  the  prison.  The  young  advocate  was  very  much 
troubled.  He  hung  his  head  as  he  went  down  the 
street;  and  the  diplomatic  citizens  who  compared  his 
dejected  appearance  with  the  victorious  air  of  M.  Gal- 
pin came  to  the  conclusion  that  Jacques  de  Boiscoran 
was  irrevocably  lost. 


470     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

At  that  moment  M.  Folgat  was  almost  of  their 
opinion.  He  had  to  pass  through  one  of  those  attacks 
of  discouragement,  to  which  the  most  energetic  men 
succumb  at  times,  when  they  are  bent  upon  pursuing  an 
uncertain  end  which  they  ardently  desire. 

The  declarations  made  by  little  Martha  and  the  gov- 
erness had  literally  overwhelmed  him.  Just  when  he 
thought  he  had  the  end  of  the  thread  in  his  hand,  the 
tangle  had  become  worse  than  ever.  And  so  it  had 
been  from  the  commencement.  At  every  step  he  took, 
the  problem  had  become  more  complicated  than  ever. 
At  every  effort  he  made,  the  darkness,  instead  of  being 
dispelled,  had  become  deeper.  Not  that  he  as  yet 
doubted  Jacques's  innocence.  No!  The  suspicion 
which  for  a  moment  had  flashed  through  his  mind  had 
passed  away  instantly.  He  admitted,  with  Dr.  Seigne- 
bos,  the  possibility  that  there  was  an  accomplice,  and 
that  it  was  Cocoleu,  in  all  probability,  who  had  been 
charged  with  the  execution  of  the  crime.  But  how 
could  that  fact  be  made  useful  to  the  defence  ?  He  saw 
no  way. 

Goudar  was  an  able  man ;  and  the  manner  in  which 
he  had  introduced  himself  into  the  hospital  and  Coco- 
leu's  company  indicated  a  master.  But  however  cun- 
ning he  was,  however  experienced  in  all  the  tricks  of 
his  profession,  how  could  he  ever  hope  to  make  a  man 
confess  who  intrenched  himself  behind  the  rampart  of 
feigned  imbecility?  If  he  had  only  had  an  abundance 
of  time  before  him !  But  the  days  were  counted,  and 
he  would  have  to  hurry  his  measures. 

"  I  feel  like  giving  it  up,"  thought  the  young  lawyer. 

In  the  meantime  he  had  reached  the  prison.  He  felt 
the  necessity  of  concealing  his  anxiety.  While  Blangin 
went  before  him  through  the  long  passages,  rattling 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     471 

his  keys,  he  endeavored  to  give  to  his  features  an  ex- 
pression of  hopeful  confidence. 

"  At  last  you  come !  "  cried  Jacques. 

He  had  evidently  suffered  terribly  since  the  day  be- 
fore. A  feverish  restlessness  had  disordered  his  fea- 
tures, and  reddened  his  eyes.  He  was  shaking  with 
nervous  tremor.  Still  he  waited  till  the  jailer  had  shut 
the  door ;  and  then  he  asked  hoarsely, — 

"What  did  she  say?" 

M.  Folgat  gave  him  a  minute  account  of  his  mission, 
quoting  the  words  of  the  countess  almost  literally. 

"  That  is  just  like  her !  "  exclaimed  the  prisoner. 
"  I  think  I  can  hear  her !  What  a  woman !  To  defy 
me  in  this  way !  " 

And  in  his  anger  he  wrung  his  hands  till  they  nearly 
bled. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  young  advocate,  "  there  is  no 
use  in  trying  to  get  outside  of  our  circle  of  defence. 
Any  new  effort  would  be  useless." 

"  No !  "  replied  Jacques.  "  No,  I  shall  not  stop 
there !  " 

And  after  a  few  moments'  reflection, — if  he  can  be 
said  to  have  been  able  to  reflect, — he  said, — 

"  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me,  my  dear  sir,  for  having 
exposed  you  to  such  insults.  I  ought  to  have  foreseen 
it,  or,  rather,  I  did  foresee  it.  I  knew  that  was  not  the 
way  to  begin  the  battle.  But  I  was  a  coward,  I  was 
afraid,  I  drew  back,  fool  that  I  was !  As  if  I  had  not 
known  that  we  shall  at  any  rate  have  to  come  to  the 
last  extremity !  Well,  I  am  ready  now,  and  I  shall  do 
it!" 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  shall  go  and  see  the  Countess  Claudieuse.  I  shal1 
tell  her  "— 


472     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Oh !  " 

"  You  do  not  think  she  will  deny  it  to  my  face  ? 
When  I  once  have  her  under  my  eye,  I  shall  make  her 
confess  the  crime  of  which  I  am  accused." 

M.  Folgat  had  promised  Dr.  Seignebos  not  to  men- 
tion what  Martha  and  her  governess  had  said;  but  he 
felt  no  longer  bound  to  conceal  it. 

"  And  if  the  countess  should  not  be  guilty  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Who,  then,  could  be  guilty  ?  " 

"If  she  had  an  accomplice?" 

"  Well,  she  will  tell  me  who  it  is.  I  will  insist  upon 
it,  I  will  make  her  tell.  I  will  not  be  disgraced.  I  am 
innocent,  I  will  not  go  to  the  galleys !  " 

To  try  and  make  Jacques  listen  to  reason  would  have 
been  madness  just  now. 

"  Have  a  care,"  said  the  young  lawyer.  "  Our  de- 
fence is  difficult  enough  already;  do  not  make  it  still 
more  so." 

"  I  shall  be  careful." 

"  A  scene  might  ruin  us  irrevocably." 

"  Be  not  afraid  !  " 

"M.  Folgat  said  nothing  more.  He  thought  he  could 
guess  by  what  means  Jacques  would  try  to  get  out  of 
prison.  But  he  did  not  ask  him  about  the  details,  be- 
cause his  position  as  his  counsel  made  it  his  duty  not 
to  know,  or,  at  least,  to  seem  not  to  know,  certain 
things. 

"  Now,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  prisoner,  "  you  will 
render  me  a  service,  will  you  not  ?  " 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  know  as  accurately  as  possible  how  the 
house  in  which  the  countess  lives  is  arranged." 

Without  saying  a  word,  M.  Folgat  took  out  a  sheet 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     473 

of  paper,  and  drew  on  it  a  plan  of  the  house,  as  far  as 
he  knew, — of  the  garden,  the  entrance-hall,  and  the 
sitting-room. 

"  And  the  count's  room,"  asked  Jacques,  "  where  is 
that?" 

"  In  the  upper  story/' 

"  You  are  sure  he  cannot  get  up  ?  " 

"  Dr.  Seignebos  told  me  so." 

The  prisoner  seemed  to  be  delighted. 

"  Then  all  is  right,"  he  said,  "  and  I  have  only  to 
ask  you,  my  dear  counsel,  to  tell  Miss  Dionysia  that  I 
must  see  her  to-day,  as  soon  as  possible.  I  wish  her  to 
come  accompanied  by  one  of  her  aunts  only.  And,  I 
beseech  you,  make  haste." 

M.  Folgat  did  hasten ;  so  that,  twenty  minutes  later, 
he  was  at  the  young  lady's  house.  She  was  in  her 
chamber.  He  sent  word  to  her  that  he  wished  to  see 
her;  and,  as  soon  as  she  heard  that  Jacques  wanted 
her,  she  said  simply, — 

"  I  am  ready  to  go." 

And,  calling  one  of  the  Misses  Lavarande,  she  told 
her, — • 

"  Come,  Aunt  Elizabeth,  be  quick.  Take  your  hat 
and  your  shawl.  I  am  going  out,  and  you  are  going 
with  me." 

The  prisoner  counted  so  fully  upon  the  promptness 
of  his  betrothed,  that  he  had  already  gone  down  into 
the  parlor  when  she  arrived  at  the  prison,  quite  out  of 
breath  from  having  walked  so  fast.  He  took  her 
hands,  and,  pressing  them  to  his  lips,  he  said, — 

"  Oh,  my  darling !  how  shall  I  ever  thank  you  for 
your  sublime  fidelity  in  my  misfortune?  If  I  escape, 
my  whole  life  will  not  suffice  to  prove  my  gratitude." 


474     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS   LIFE 

But  he  tried  to  master  his  emotion,  and,  turning  to 
Aunt  Elizabeth,  he  said, — 

"  Will  you  pardon  me  if  I  beg  you  to  render  me 
once  more  the  service  you  have  done  me  before  ?  It  is 
all  important  that  no  one  should  hear  what  I  am  going 
to  say  to  Dionysia.  I  know  I  am  watched." 

Accustomed  to  passive  obedience,  the  good  lady  left 
the  room  without  daring  to  make  the  slightest  remark, 
and  went  to  keep  watch  in  the  passage.  Dionysia  was 
very  much  surprised;  but  Jacques  did  not  give  her 
time  to  utter  a  word.  He  said  at  once, — 

"  You  told  me  in  this  very  place,  that,  if  I  wished  to 
escape,  Blangin  would  furnish  me  the  means,  did  you 
not?" 

The  young  girl  drew  back,  and  stammered  with  an 
air  of  utter  bewilderment, — 

"  You  do  not  want  to  flee  ?  " 

"  Never !  Under  no  circumstances !  But  you  ought 
to  remember,  that,  while  resisting  all  your  arguments, 
I  told  you,  that  perhaps,  some  day  or  other,  I  might 
require  a  few  hours  of  liberty." 

"  I  remember." 

"  I  begged  you  to  sound  the  jailer  on  that  point." 

"  I  did  so.  For  money  he  will  always  be  ready  to 
do  your  bidding." 

Jacques  seem  to  breathe  more  freely. 

"  Well,  then,"  he  said  again,  "  the  time  has  come. 
To-morrow  I  shall  have  to  be  away  all  the  evening.  I 
should  like  to  leave  about  nine ;  and  I  shall  be  back  at 
midnight." 

Dionysia  stopped  him. 

"  Wait,"  she  said :  "  I  want  to  call  Blangin's  wife." 

The  household  of  the  jailer  of  Sauveterre  was  like 
many  others.  The  husband  was  brutal,  imperious,  and 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     475 

tyrannical:  he  talked  loud  and  positively,  and  thus 
made  it  appear  that  he  was  the  master.  The  wife  was 
humble,  submissive,  apparently  resigned,  and  always 
ready  to  obey ;  but  in  reality  she  ruled  by  intelligence, 
as  he  ruled  by  main  force.  When  the  husband  had 
promised  any  thing,  the  consent  of  the  wife  had  still 
to  be  obtained;  but,  when  the  wife  undertook  to  do 
any  thing,  the  husband  was  bound  through  her.  Dio- 
nysia,  therefore,  knew  very  well  that  she  would  have 
first  to  win  over  the  wife.  Mrs.  Blangin  came  up  in 
haste,  her  mouth  full  of  hypocritical  assurances  of  good 
will,  vowing  that  she  was  heart  and  soul  at  her  dear 
mistress's  command,  recalling  with  delight  the  happy 
days  when  she  was  in  M.  de  Chandore's  service,  and 
regretting  forevermore. 

"  I  know,"  the  young  girl  cut  her  short,  "  you  are  at- 
tached to  me.  But  listen !  " 

And  then  she  promptly  explained  to  her  what  she 
wanted;  while  Jacques,  standing  a  little  aside  in  the 
shade,  watched  the  impression  on  the  woman's  face. 
Gradually  she  raised  her  head;  and,  when  Dionysia 
had  finished,  she  said  in  a  very  different  tone, — 

"  I  understand  perfectly,  and,  if  I  were  the  master,  I 
should  say,  '  All  right ! '  But  Blangin  is  master  of  the 
jail.  Well,  he  is  not  bad ;  but  he  insists  upon  doing  his 
duty.  We  have  nothing  but  our  place  to  live  upon." 

"  Have  I  not  paid  you  as  much  as  your  place  is 
worth  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  do  not  mind  paying." 

"  You  had  promised  me  to  speak  to  your  husband 
about  this  matter." 

"  I  have  done  so ;  but " — 

"  I  would  give  as  much  as  I  did  before." 

"In  goW?" 


476     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Well,  be  it  so,  in  gold." 

A  flash  of  covetousness  broke  forth  from  under  the 
thick  brows  of  the  jailer's  wife;  but,  quite  self-pos- 
sessed, she  went  on, — 

"  In  that  case,  my  man  will  probably  consent.  I  will 
go  and  put  him  right,  and  then  you  can  talk  to  him." 

She  went  out  hastily,  and,  as  soon  as  she  had  dis- 
appeared, Jacques  asked  Dionysia, — 

"  How  much  have  you  paid  Blangin  so  far  ?  " 

"  Seventeen  thousand  francs." 

"  These  people  are  robbing  you  outrageously." 

"  Ah,  what  does  the  money  matter  ?  I  wish  we  were 
both  of  us  ruined,  if  you  were  but  free." 

But  it  had  not  taken  the  wife  long  to  persuade  the 
husband.  Blangin's  heavy  steps  were  heard  in  the  pas- 
sage ;  and  almost  immediately  he  entered,  cap  in  hand, 
looking  obsequious  and  restless. 

"  My  wife  has  told  me  every  thing,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
consent.  Only  we  must  understand  each  other.  This 
is  no  trifle  you  are  asking  for." 

Jacques  interrupted  him,  and  said, — 

"  Let  us  not  exaggerate  the  matter.  I  do  not  mean 
to  escape:  I  only  want  to  leave  for  a  time.  I  shall 
come  back,  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor." 

"  Upon  my  life  that  is  not  what  troubles  me.  If  the 
question  was  only  to  let  you  run  off  altogether,  I 
should  open  the  doors  wide,  and  say,  '  Good-by ! '  A 
prisoner  who  runs  away — that  happens  every  day ;  but 
a  prisoner  who  leaves  for  a  few  hours,  and  comes  back 
again —  Suppose  anybody  were  to  see  you  in  town? 
Or  if  any  one  came  and  wanted  to  see  you  while  you 
are  gone  ?  Or  if  they  saw  you  come  back  again  ?  What 
should  I  say?  I  am  quite  ready  to  be  turned  off  for 
negligence.  I  have  been  paid  for  that.  But  to  be  tried 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     477 

as  an  accomplice,  and  to  be  put  into  jail  myself.  Stop ! 
That  is  not  what  I  mean  to  do." 

This  was  evidently  but  a  preface. 

"  Oh !  why  lose  so  many  words  ?  "  asked  Dionysia. 
"  Explain  yourself  clearly." 

"  Well,  M.  de  Boiscoran  cannot  leave  by  the  gate. 
At  tattoo,  at  eight  o'clock,  the  soldiers  on  guard  at 
this  season  of  the  year  go  inside  the  prison,  and  until 
reveille  in  the  morning,  or,  in  other  words,  till  five 
o'clock,  I  can  neither  open  nor  shut  the  gates  without 
calling  the  sergeant  in  command  of  the  post." 

Did  he  want  to  extort  more  money?  Did  he  make 
the  difficulties  out  greater  than  they  really  were? 

"  After  all,"  said  Jacques,  "  if  you  consent,  there 
must  be  a  way." 

The  jailer  could  dissemble  no  longer:  he  came  out 
with  it  bluntly. 

"  If  the  thing  is  to  be  done,  you  must  get  out  as  if 
you  were  escaping  in  good  earnest.  The  wall  between 
the  two  towers  is,  to  my  knowledge,  at  one  place  not 
over  two  feet  thick ;  and  on  the  other  side,  where  there 
are  nothing  but  bare  grounds  and  the  old  ramparts, 
they  never  put  a  sentinel.  I  will  get  you  a  crowbar  and 
a  pickaxe,  and  you  make  a  hole  in  the  wall." 

Jacques  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  And  next  day,"  he  said,  "  when  I  am  back,  how 
will  you  explain  that  hole  ?  " 

Blangin  smiled. 

"  Be  sure,"  he  replied,  "  I  won't  say  the  rats  did  it. 
I  have  thought  of  that  too.  At  the  same  time  with 
you,  another  prisoner  will  run  off,  who  will  not  come 
back." 

"What  prisoner?" 

"  Trumence,  to  be  sure.     He  will  be  delighted  to 


478     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

get  away,  and  he  will  help  you  in  making  the  hole  in 
the  wall.  You  must  make  your  bargain  with  him,  but, 
of  course,  without  letting  him  know  that  I  know  any 
thing.  In  this  way,  happen  what  may,  I  shall  not  be 
in  danger." 

The  plan  was  really  a  good  one ;  only  Blangin  ought 
not  to  have  claimed  the  honor  of  inventing  it :  the  idea 
came  from  his  wife. 

"  Well,"  replied  Jacques,  "  that  is  settled.  Get  me 
the  pickaxe  and  the  crowbar,  show  me  the  place  where 
we  must  make  the  hole,  and  I  will  take  charge  of 
Trumence.  To-morrow  you  shall  have  the  money." 

He  was  on  the  point  of  following  the  jailer,  when 
Dionysia  held  him  back;  and,  lifting  up  her  beautiful 
eyes  to  him,  she  said  in  a  tremor, — 

"  You  see,  Jacques,  I  have  not  hesitated  to  dare  every 
thing  in  order  to  procure  you  a  few  hours  of  liberty. 
May  I  not  know  what  you  are  going  to  do  in  that 
time  ?  " 

And,  as  he  made  no  reply,  she  repeated, — 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

A  rush  of  blood  colored  the  face  of  the  unfortunate 
man ;  and  he  said  in  an  embarrassed  voice, — 

"  I  beseech  you,  Dionysia,  do  not  insist  upon  my  tell- 
ing you.  Permit  me  to  keep  this  secret,  the  only  one  I 
have  ever  kept  from  you." 

Two  tears  trembled  for  a  moment  in  the  long  lashes 
of  the  young  girl,  and  then  silently  rolled  down  her 
cheeks. 

"  I  understand  you,"  she  stammered.  "  I  understand 
but  too  well.  Although  I  know  so  little  of  life,  I  had  a 
presentiment,  as  soon  as  I  saw  that  they  were  hiding 
something  from  me.  Now  I  cannot  doubt  any  longer.. 
You  will  go  to  see  a  woman  to-morrow  " — 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     479 

"  Dionysia,"  Jacques  said  with  folded  hands, — "  Dio- 
nysia,  I  beseech  you  !  " 

She  did  not  hear  him.  Gently  shaking  her  head,  she 
went  on, — • 

"  A  woman  whom  you  have  loved,  or  whom  you  love 
still,  at  whose  feet  you  have  probably  murmured  the 
same  words  which  you  whispered  at  my  feet.  How 
could  you  think  of  her  in  the  midst  of  all  your  anxie- 
ties? She  cannot  love  you,  I  am  sure.  Why  did  she 
not  come  to  you  when  she  found  that  you  were  in 
prison,  and  falsely  accused  of  an  abominable  crime  ?  " 

Jacques  could  bear  it  no  longer. 

"  Great  God !  "  he  cried,  "  I  would  a  thousand  times 
rather  tell  you  every  thing  than  allow  such  a  suspicion 
to  remain  in  your  heart!  Listen,  and  forgive  me." 

But  she  stopped  him,  putting  her  hand  on  his  lips, 
and  saying,  all  in  a  tremor, — 

"  No,  I  do  not  wish  to  know  any  thing, — nothing  at 
all.  I  believe  in  you.  Only  you  must  remember  that 
you  are  every  thing  to  me, — hope,  life,  happiness.  If 
you  should  have  deceived  me,  I  know  but  too  well — 
poor  me! — that  I  would  not  cease  loving  you;  but  I 
should  not  have  long  to  suffer." 

Overcome  with  grief  and  affection,  Jacques  re- 
peated,— 

"  Dionysia,  Dionysia,  my  darling,  let  me  confess  to 
you  who  this  woman  is,  and  why  I  must  see  her." 

"  No,"  she  interrupted  him,  "  no !  Do  what  your 
conscience  bids  you  do.  I  believe  in  you." 

And  instead  of  offering  to  let  him  kiss  her  forehead, 
as  usual,  she  hurried  off  with  her  Aunt  Elizabeth,  and 
that  so  quickly,  that,  when  he  rushed  after  her,  he  only 
saw,  as  it  were,  a  shadow  at  the  end  of  the  long 
passage. 


480     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

Never  until  this  moment  had  Jacques  found  it  in  his 
heart  really  to  hate  the  Countess  Claudieuse  with  that 
blind  and  furious  hatred  which  dreams  of  nothing  but 
vengeance.  Many  a  time,  no  doubt,  he  had  cursed  her 
in  the  solitude  of  his  prison;  but  even  when  he  was 
most  furious  against  her,  a  feeling  of  pity  had  risen  in 
his  heart  for  her  whom  he  had  once  loved  so  dearly ; 
for  he  did  not  disguise  it  to  himself,  he  had  once  loved 
her  to  distraction.  Even  in  his  prison  he  trembled  as 
he  thought  of  some  of  his  first  meetings  with  her,  as 
he  saw  before  his  mind's  eye  her  features  swimming  in 
voluptuous  languor,  as  he  heard  the  silvery  ring  of 
her  voice,  or  inhaled  the  perfume  she  loved  ever  to 
have  about  her.  She  had  exposed  him  to  the  danger  of 
losing  his  position,  his  future,  his  honor  even ;  and  he 
still  felt  inclined  to  forgive  her.  But  now  she  threat- 
ened him  with  the  loss  of  his  betrothed,  the  loss  of  that 
pure  and  chaste  love  which  burnt  in  Dionysia's  heart, 
and  he  could  not  endure  that. 

"  I  will  spare  her  no  longer,"  he  cried,  mad  with 
wrath.  "  I  will  hesitate  no  longer.  I  have  not  the 
right  to  do  so ;  for  I  am  bound  to  defend  Dionysia !  " 

He  was  more  than  ever  determined  to  risk  that  ad- 
venture on  the  next  day,  feeling  quite  sure  now  that  his 
courage  would  not  fail  him. 

It  was  Trumence  to-night — perhaps  by  the  jailer's 
skilful  management — who  was  ordered  to  take  the 
prisoner  back  to  his  cell,  and,  according  to  the  jail- 
dictionary,  to  "  curl  him  up  "  there.  He  called  him  in, 
and  at  once  plainly  told  him  what  he  expected  him  to 
do.  Upon  Blangin's  assurance,  he  expected  the  vaga- 
bond would  jump  at  the  mere  idea  of  escaping  from 
jail.  But  by  no  means.  Trumence's  smiling  features 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     481 

grew  dark;  and,  scratching  himself  behind  the  ear 
furiously,  he  replied, — 

"  You  see — excuse  me,  I  don't  want  to  run  away  at 
all." 

Jacques  was  amazed.  If  Trumence  refused  his  co- 
operation he  could  not  go  out,  or,  at  least,  he  would 
have  to  wait. 

"  Are  you  in  earnest,  Trumence  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Certainly  I  am,  my  dear  sir.  Here,  you  see,  I  am 
not  so  badly  off :  I  have  a  good  bed,  I  have  two  meals 
a  day,  I  have  nothing  to  do,  and  I  pick  up  now  and 
then,  from  one  man  or  another,  a  few  cents  to  buy  me 
a  pinch  of  tobacco  or  a  glass  of  wine." 

"  But  your  liberty  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  shall  get  that  too.  I  have  committed  Tno 
crime.  I  may  have  gotten  over  a  wall  into  an  orchard ; 
but  people  are  not  hanged  for  that.  I  have  consulted 
M.  Magloire,  and  he  told  me  precisely  how  I  stand. 
They  will  try  me  in  a  police-court,  and  they  will  give 
me  three  or  four  months.  Well,  that  is  not  so  very 
bad.  But,  if  I  run  away,  they  put  the  gendarmes  on 
my  track ;  they  bring  me  back  here ;  and  then  I  know 
how  they  will  treat  me.  Besides,  to  break  jail  is  a 
grave  offence." 

How  could  he  overcome  such  wise  conclusions  and 
such  excellent  reasons?  Jacques  was  very  much 
troubled. 

"  Why  should  the  gendarmes  take  you  again  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Because  they  are  gendarmes,  my  dear  sir.  And 
then,  that  is  not  all.  If  it  were  spring,  I  should  say  at 
once,  '  I  am  your  man.'  But  we  have  autumn  now ; 
we  are  going  to  have  bad  weather;  work  will  be 
scarce." 


482     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

Although  an  incurable  idler,  Trumence  had  always  a 
good  deal  to  say  about  work. 

"  You  won't  help  them  in  the  vintage  ? "  asked 
Jacques. 

The  vagabond  looked  almost  repenting. 

"  To  be  sure,  the  vintage  must  have  commenced,"  he 
said. 

"Well?" 

"  But  that  only  lasts  a  fortnight,  and  then  comes 
winter.  And  winter  is  no  man's  friend :  it's  my  enemy. 
I  know  I  have  been  without  a  place  to  lie  down  when 
it  has  been  freezing  to  split  stones,  and  the  snow  was  a 
foot  deep.  Oh !  here  they  have  stoves,  and  the  Board 
gives  very  warm  clothes." 

"  Yes ;  but  there  are  no  merry  evenings  here,  Tru- 
mence, eh?  None  of  those  merry  evenings,  when  the 
hot  wine  goes  round,  and  you  tell  the  girls  all  sorts  of 
stories,  while  you  are  shelling  peas,  or  shucking  corn  ?  " 

"  Oh !  I  know.  I  do  enjoy  those  evenings.  But  the 
cold !  Where  should  I  go  when  I  have  not  a  cent  ?  " 

That  was  exactly  where  Jacques  wanted  to  lead  him. 

"  I  have  money,"  he  said. 

"  I  know  you  have." 

"You  do  not  think  I  would  let  you  go  off  with 
empty  pockets?  I  would  give  you  any  thing  you  may 
ask." 

"  Really  ?  "  cried  the  vagrant. 

And  looking  at  Jacques  with  a  mingled  expression 
of  hope,  surprise,  and  delight,  he  added, — 

"  You  see  I  should  want  a  good  deal.  Winter  is 
long.  I  should  want — let  me  see,  I  should  want  fifty 
Napoleons !  " 

"  You  shall  have  a  hundred,"  said  Jacques. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     483 

Trumence's  eyes  began  to  dance.  He  probably  had  a 
vision  of  those  irresistible  taverns  at  Rochefort,  where 
he  had  led  such  a  merry  life.  But  he  could  not  believe 
such  happiness  to  be  real. 

"  You  are  not  making  fun  of  me  ?  "  he  asked  timidly. 

"  Do  you  want  the  whole  sum  at  once  ?  "  replied 
Jacques.  "  Wait." 

He  drew  from  the  drawer  in  his  table  a  thousand- 
franc  note.  But,  at  the  sight  of  the  note,  the  vagrant 
drew  back  the  hand  which  he  had  promptly  stretched 
out  to  take  the  money. 

"  Oh !  that  kind  ?  No !  I  know  what  that  paper  is 
worth:  I  have  had  some  of  them  myself.  But  what 
could  I  do  with  one  of  them  now?  It  would  not  be 
worth  more  to  me  than  a  leaf  of  a  tree ;  for,  at  the  first 
place  where  I  should  want  it  changed,  they  would  ar- 
rest me." 

"  That  is  easily  remedied.  By  to-morrow  I  shall 
have  gold,  or  small  notes,  so  you  can  have  your  choice." 

This  time  Trumence  clapped  his  hands  in  great  joy. 

"  Give  me  some  of  one  kind,  and  some  of  the  other," 
he  said,  "  and  I  am  your  man !  Hurrah  for  liberty ! 
Where  is  that  wall  that  we  are  to  go  through  ?  " 

"  I  will  show  you  to-morrow ;  and  till  then,  Tru- 
mence, silence." 

It  was  only  the  next  day  that  Blangin  showed 
Jacques  the  place  where  the  wall  had  least  thickness. 
It  was  in  a  kind  of  cellar,  where  nobody  ever  came,  and 
where  cast-off  tools  were  stored  away. 

"  In  order  that  you  may  not  be  interrupted,"  said  the 
jailer,  "  I  will  ask  two  of  my  comrades  to  dine  with 
me,  and  I  shall  invite  the  sergeant  on  duty.  They  will 
enjoy  themselves,  and  never  think  of  the  prisoners.  My 


484     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

wife  will  keep  a  sharp  lookout;  and,  if  any  of  the 
rounds  should  come  this  way,  she  would  warn  you,  and 
quick,  quick,  you  would  be  back  in  your  room." 

All  was  settled ;  and,  as  soon  as  night  came,  Jacques 
and  Trumence,  taking  a  candle  with  them,  slipped 
down  into  the  cellar,  and  went  to  work.  It  was  a  hard 
task  to  get  through  this  old  wall,  and  Jacques  would 
never  have  been  able  to  accomplish  it  alone.  The  thick- 
ness was  even  less  than  what  Blangin  had  stated  it  to 
be  ;  but  the  hardness  was  far  beyond  expectation.  Our 
fathers  built  well.  In  course  of  time  the  cement  had 
become  one  with  the  stone,  and  acquired  the  same  hard- 
ness. It  was  as  if  they  had  attacked  a  block  of  granite. 
The  vagrant  had,  fortunately,  a  strong  arm ;  and,  in 
spite  of  the  precautions  which  they  had  to  take  to  pre- 
vent being  heard,  he  had,  in  less  than  an  hour,  made 
a  hole  through  which  a  man  could  pass.  He  put  his 
head  in ;  and,  after  a  moment's  examination,  he  said, — 

"  All  right !  The  night  is  dark,  and  the  place  is  de- 
serted. Upon  my  word,  I  will  risk  it !  " 

He  went  through;  Jacques  followed;  and  instinct- 
ively they  hastened  towards  a  place  where  several  trees 
made  a  dark  shadow.  Once  there,  Jacques  handed 
Trumence  a  package  of  five-franc  notes,  and  said, — 

"  Add  this  to  the  hundred  Napoleons  I  have  given 
you  before.  Thank  you  :  you  are  a  good  fellow,  and,  if 
I  get  out  of  my  trouble,  I  will  not  forget  you.  And 
now  let  us  part.  Make  haste,  be  careful,  and  good 
luck!" 

After  these  words  he  went  off  rapidly.  But  Tru- 
mence did  not  march  off  in  the  opposite  direction,  as 
had  been  agreed  upon. 

"  Anyhow,"  said  the  poor  vagrant  to  himself,  "  this 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     485 

is  a  curious  story  about  this  poor  gentleman.    Where 
on  earth  can  he  be  going  ?  " 

And,  curiosity  getting  the  better  of  prudence,  he  fol- 
lowed him. 


XXVIII. 

JACQUES  DE  BOISCORAN  went  straight  to  Mautrec 
Street.  But  he  knew  with  what  horror  he  was  looked 
upon  by  the  population;  and  in  order  to  avoid  being 
recognized,  and  perhaps  arrested,  he  did  not  take  the 
most  direct  route,  nor  did  he  choose  the  more  fre- 
quented streets.  He  went  a  long  way  around,  and  well- 
nigh  lost  himself  in  the  winding,  dark  lanes  of  the  old 
town.  He  walked  along  in  feverish  haste,  turning 
aside  from  the  rare  passers-by,  pulling  his  felt  hat 
down  over  his  eyes,  and,  for  still  greater  safety,  hold- 
ing his  handkerchief  over  his  face.  It  was  nearly  half- 
past  nine  when  he  at  last  reached  the  house  inhabited 
by  Count  and  Countess  Claudieuse.  The  little  gate  had 
been  taken  out,  and  the  great  doors  were  closed. 

Never  mind!  Jacques  had  his  plan.  He  rang  the 
bell. 

A  maid,  who  did  not  know  him,  came  to  the  door. 

"  Is  the  Countess  Claudieuse  in  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  countess  does  not  see  anybody,"  replied  the 
girl.  "  She  is  sitting  up  with  the  count,  who  is  very, 
ill  to-night." 

"  But  I  must  see  her." 

"  Impossible." 

"  Tell  her  that  a  gentleman  who  has  been  sent  by 
M.  Galpin  desires  to  see  her  for  a  moment.  It  is  the 
Boiscoran  affair." 


486     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Why  did  you  not  say  so  at  once  ?  "  said  the  servant. 
"  Come  in."  And  forgetting,  in  her  hurry,  to  close  the 
gates  again,  she  went  before  Jacques  through  the  gar- 
den, showed  him  into  the  vestibule,  and  then  opened  the 
parlor-door,  saying, — 

"  Will  you  please  go  in  here  and  sit  down,  while  I 
go  to  tell  the  countess  ?  " 

After  lighting  one  of  the  candles  on  the  mantelpiece, 
she  went  out.  So  far,  every  thing  had  gone  well  for 
Jacques,  and  even  better  than  he  could  have  expected. 
Nothing  remained  now  to  be  done,  except  to  prevent 
the  countess  from  going  back  and  escaping,  as  soon  as 
she  should  have  recognized  Jacques.  Fortunately  the 
parlor-door  opened  into  the  room.  He  went  and  put 
himself  behind  the  open  half,  and  waited  there. 

For  twenty-four  hours  he  had  prepared  himself  for 
this  interview,  and  arranged  in  his  head  the  very  words 
he  would  use.  But  now,  at  the  last  moment,  all  his 
ideas  flew  away,  like  dry  leaves  under  the  breath  of  a 
tempest.  His  heart  was  beating  with  such  violence, 
that  he  thought  it  filled  the  whole  room  with  the  noise. 
He  imagined  he  was  cool,  and,  in  fact,  he  possessed 
that  lucidity  which  gives  to  certain  acts  of  madmen  an 
appearance  of  sense. 

He  was  surprised  at  being  kept  waiting  so  long, 
when,  at  last,  light  steps,  and  the  rustling  of  a  dress, 
warned  him  that  the  countess  was  coming. 

She  came  in,  dressed  in  a  long,  dark,  undress  robe, 
and  took  a  few  steps  into  the  room,  astonished  at  not 
seeing  the  person  who  was  waiting  for  her. 

It  was  exactly  as  Jacques  had  foreseen. 

He  pushed  to,  violently,  the  open  half  of  the  door; 
and,  placing  himself  before  her,  he  said, — 

"We  are  alone!" 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     487 

She  turned  round  at  the  noise,  and  cried, — 

"  Jacques !" 

And  terrified,  as  if  she  had  seen  a  ghost,  she  looked 
all  around,  hoping  to  see  a  way  out.  One  of  the  tall 
windows  of  the  room,  which  went  down  to  the  ground, 
was  half  open,  and  she  rushed  towards  it ;  but  Jacques 
anticipated  her,  and  said, — 

"  Do  not  attempt  to  escape ;  for  I  swear  I  should  pur- 
sue you  into  your  husband's  room,  to  the  foot  of  his 
bed." 

She  looked  at  him  as  if  she  did  not  comprehend. 

"  You,"  she  stammered, — "  you  here  !  " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  I  am  here.  You  are  astonished, 
are  you  ?  You  said  to  yourself,  '  He  is  in  prison,  well 
kept  under  lock  and  key :  I  can  sleep  in  peace.  No  evi- 
dence can  be  found.  He  will  not  speak.  I  have  com- 
mitted the  crime,  and  he  will  be  punished  for  it.  I  am 
guilty;  but  I  shall  escape.  He  is  innocent,  and  he  is 
lost.'  You  thought  it  was  all  settled?  Well,  no,  it  is 
not.  I  am  here !  " 

An  expression  of  unspeakable  horror  contracted  the 
beautiful  features  of  the  countess.  She  said, — 

"  This  is  monstrous !  " 

"  Monstrous  indeed  !  " 

"  Murderer !    Incendiary !  " 

He  burst  out  laughing,  a  strident,  convulsive,  ter- 
rible laughter. 

"  And  you,"  he  said,  "  you  call  me  so  ?  " 

By  one  great  effort  the  Countess  Claudieuse  recov- 
ered her  energy. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  yes,  I  do !  You  cannot  deny 
your  crime  to  me.  I  know,  I  know  the  motives  which 
the  judges  do  not  even  guess.  You  thought  I  would 
carry  out  my  threats,  and  you  were  frightened.  When 


488     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

I  left  you  in  such  haste,  you  said  to  yourself,  '  It  is  all 
over :  she  will  tell  her  husband.'  And  then  you  kindled 
that  fire  in  order  to  draw  my  husband  out  of  the  house, 
you  incendiary!  And  then  you  fired  at  my  husband, 
you  murderer !  " 

He  was  still  laughing. 

"  And  that  is  your  plan  ?  "  he  broke  in.  "  Who  do 
you  think  will  believe  such  an  absurd  story  ?  Our  let- 
ters were  burnt ;  and,  if  you  deny  having  been  my  mis- 
tress, I  can  just  as  well  deny  having  been  your  lover. 
And,  besides,  would  the  exposure  do  me  any  harm? 
You  know  very  well  it  would  not.  You  are  perfectly 
aware,  that,  as  society  is  with  us,  the  same  thing  which 
disgraces  a  woman  rather  raises  a  man  in  the  estimate 
of  the  world.  And  as  to  my  being  afraid  of  Count 
Claudieuse,  it  is  well  known  that  I  am  afraid  of  no- 
body. At  the  time  when  we  were  concealing  our  love 
in  the  house  in  Vine  Street,  yes,  at  that  time,  I  might 
have  been  afraid  of  your  husband ;  for  he  might  have 
surprised  us  there,  the  code  in  one  hand,  a  revolver  in 
the  other,  and  have  availed  himself  of  that  stupid  and 
savage  law  which  makes  the  husband  the  judge  of  his 
own  case,  and  the  executor  of  the  sentence  which  he 
himself  pronounces.  But  setting  aside  such  a  case,  the 
case  of  being  taken  in  the  act,  which  allows  a  man  to 
kill  like  a  dog  another  man,  who  can  not  or  will  not 
defend  himself,  what  did  I  care  for  Count  Claudieuse? 
What  did  I  care  for  your  threats  or  for  his  hatred?  " 
He  said  these  words  with  perfect  calmness,  but 
with  that  cold,  cutting  tone  which  is  as  sharp  as  a 
sword,  and  with  that  positiveness  which  enters  ir- 
resistibly into  the  mind.  The  countess  was  tottering, 
and  stammered  almost  inaudibly, — 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     489 

"  Who  could  imagine  such  a  thing?    Is  it  possible?  " 

Then,  suddenly  raising  her  head,  she  said, — 

"  But  I  am  losing  my  senses.  If  you  are  innocent, 
who,  then,  could  be  the  guilty  man  ?  " 

Jacques  seized  her  hands  almost  madly,  and  press- 
ing them  painfully,  and  bending  over  her  so  closely 
that  she  felt  his  hot  breath  like  a  flame  touching  her 
face,  he  hissed  into  her  ear, — 

"  You,  wretched  creature,  you !  " 

And  then  pushing  her  from  him  with  such  violence 
that  she  fell  into  a  chair,  he  continued, — 

"  You,  who  wanted  to  be  a  widow  in  order  to  pre- 
vent me  from  breaking  the  chains  in  which  you  held 
me.  At  our  last  meeting,  when  I  thought  you  were 
crushed  by  grief,  and  felt  overcome  by  your  hypocriti- 
cal tears,  I  was  weak  enough,  I  was  stupid  enough,  to 
say  that  I  married  Dionysia  only  because  you  were 
not  free.  Then  you  cried,  '  O  God,  how  happy  I  am 
that  that  idea  did  not  occur  to  me  before ! '  What 
idea  was  that,  Genevieve?  Come,  answer  me  and 
confess,  that  it  occurred  to  you  too  soon  after  all, 
since  you  have  carried  it  out  ?  " 

And  repeating  with  crushing  irony  the  words  just 
uttered  by  the  countess,  he  said, — 

"  If  you  are  innocent,  who,  then,  could  be  the  guilty 
man?" 

Quite  beside  herself,  she  sprang  up  from  her  chair, 
and  casting  at  Jacques  one  of  those  glances  which 
seem  to  enter  through  our  eyes  into  the  very  heart  of 
our  hearts,  she  asked, — 

"  Is  it  really  possible  that  you  have  not  committed 
this  abominable  crime?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 


490     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  But  then,"  she  repeated,  almost  panting,  "  is  it 
true,  can  it  really  be  true,  that  you  think  I  have  com- 
mitted it?" 

"  Perhaps  you  have  only  ordered  it  to  be  com- 
mitted." 

With  a  wild  gesture  she  raised  her  arms  to  heaven, 
and  cried  in  a  heart-rending  voice, — 

"O  God,  O  God!  He  believes  it!  he  really  be- 
lieves it !  " 

There  followed  great  silence,  dismal,  formidable 
silence,  such  as  in  nature  follows  the  crash  of  the 
thunderbolt. 

Standing  face  to  face,  Jacques  and  the  Countess 
Claudieuse  looked  at  each  other  madly,  feeling  that 
the  fatal  hour  in  their  lives  had  come  at  last. 

Each  felt  a  growing,  a  sure  conviction  of  the  other. 
There  was  no  need  of  explanations.  They  had  been 
misled  by  appearances:  they  acknowledged  it;  they 
were  sure  of  it. 

And  this  discovery  was  so  fearful,  so  overwhelm- 
ing, that  neither  thought  of  who  the  real  guilty  one 
might  be. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?  "  asked  the  countess. 

"  The  truth  must  be  told,"  replied  Jacques. 

"Which?" 

"  That  I  have  been  your  lover ;  that  I  went  to  Val- 
pinson  by  appointment  with  you ;  that  the  cartridge- 
case  which  was  found  there  was  used  by  me  to  get 
fire ;  that  my  blackened  hands  were  soiled  by  the  half- 
burnt  fragment  of  our  letters,  which  I  had  tried  to 
scatter." 

"  Never !  "  cried  the  countess. 

Jacques's  face  turned  crimson,  as  he  said  with  an 
accent  of  merciless  severity,—- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     491 

"  It  shall  be  told !  I  will  have  it  so,  and  it  must 
be  done ! " 

The  countess  seemed  to  be  furious. 

"  Never !  "  she  cried  again,  "  never !  " 

And  with  convulsive  haste  she  added, — 

"  Do  you  not  see  that  the  truth  cannot  possibly  be 
told.  They  would  never  believe  in  our  innocence. 
They  would  only  look  upon  us  as  accomplices." 

"  Never  mind.     I  am  not  willing  to  die." 

"  Say  that  you  will  not  die  alone." 

"  Be  it  so." 

"  To  confess  every  thing  would  never  save  you,  but 
would  most  assuredly  ruin  me.  Is  that  what  you 
want?  Would  your  fate  appear  less  cruel  to  you,  if 
there  were  two  victims  instead  of  one  ?  " 

He  stopped  her  by  a  threatening  gesture,  and 
cried, — 

"  Are  you  always  the  same  ?  I  am  sinking,  I  am 
drowning ;  and  she  calculates,  she  bargains  !  And  she 
said  she  loved  me !  " 

"  Jacques !  "  broke  in  the  countess. 

And,  drawing  close  up  to  him,  she  said, — 

"  Ah  !  I  calculate,  I  bargain  ?  Well,  listen.  Yes,  it 
is  true.  I  did  value  my  reputation  as  an  honest  woman 
more  highly,  a  thousand  times  more,  than  my  life; 
but,  above  my  life  and  my  reputation,  I  valued  you. 
You  are  drowning,  you  say.  Well,  then,  let  us  flee. 
One  word  from  you,  and  I  leave  all, — honor,  country, 
family,  husband,  children.  Say  one  word,  and  I  fol- 
low you  without  turning  my  head,  without  a  regret, 
without  a  remorse." 

Her  whole  body  was  shivering  from  head  to  foot; 
her  bosom  rose  and  fell ;  her  eyes  shone  with  unbear- 
able brilliancy. 


492     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

Thanks  to  the  violence  of  her  action,  her  dress, 
put  on  in  great  haste,  had  opened,  and  her  dishevelled 
hair  flowed  in  golden  masses  over  her  bosom  and  her 
shoulders,  which  matched  the  purest  marble  in  their 
dazzling  whiteness. 

And  in  a  voice  trembling  with  pent-up  passion,  now 
sweet  and  soft  like  a  tender  caress,  and  now  deep 
and  sonorous  like  a  bell,  she  went  on, — 

"  What  keeps  us  ?  Since  you  have  escaped  from 
prison,  the  greatest  difficulty  is  overcome.  I  thought 
at  first  of  taking  our  girl,  your  girl,  Jacques ;  but  she 
is  very  ill ;  and  besides  a  child  might  betray  us.  If  we 
go  alone,  they  will  never  overtake  us.  We  will  have 
money  enough,  I  am  sure,  Jacques.  We  will  flee  to 
those  distant  countries  which  appear  in  books  of 
travels  in  such  fairy-like  beauty.  There,  unknown, 
forgotten,  unnoticed,  our  life  will  be  one  unbroken  en- 
joyment. You  will  never  again  say  that  I  bargain. 
I  will  be  yours,  entirely  and  solely  yours,  body  and 
soul,  your  wife,  your  slave." 

She  threw  her  head  back,  and  with  half-closed  eyes, 
bending  with  her  whole  person  toward  him,  she  said 
in  melting  tones, — 

"  Say,  Jacques,  will  you  ?    Jacques !  " 

He  pushed  her  aside  with  a  fierce  gesture.  It 
seemed  to  him  almost  a  sacrilege  that  she  also,  like 
Dionysia,  should  propose  to  him  to  flee. 

"  Rather  the  galleys !  "  he  cried. 

She  turned  deadly  pale ;  a  spasm  of  rage  convulsed 
her  features;  and  drawing  back,  stiff  and  stern,  she 
said, — 

"What  else  do  you  want?" 

"  Your  help  to  save  me,"  he  replied. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     493 

"  At  the  risk  of  ruining  myself  ?  " 

He  made  no  reply. 

Then  she,  who  had  just  now  been  all  humility, 
raised  herself  to  her  full  height,  and  in  a  tone  of  bit- 
terest sarcasm  said  slowly, — 

"  In  other  words,  you  want  me  to  sacrifice  myself, 
and  at  the  same  time  all  my  family.  For  your  sake? 
Yes,  but  even  more  for  Miss  Chandore's  sake.  And 
you  think  that  is  quite  a  simple  thing.  I  am  the  past 
to  you,  satiety,  disgust :  she  is  the  future  to  you,  desire, 
happiness.  And  you  think  it  quite  natural  that  the 
old  love  should  make  a  footstool  of  her  love  and  her 
honor  for  the  new  love  ?  You  think  little  of  my  being 
disgraced,  provided  she  be  honored;  of  my  weeping 
bitterly,  if  she  but  smile?  Well,  no,  no!  It  is  mad- 
ness in  you  to  come  and  ask  me  to  save  you,  so  that 
you  may  throw  yourself  into  the  arms  of  another. 
It  is  madness,  when,  in  order  to  tear  you  from 
Dionysia,  I  am  ready  to  ruin  myself,  provided  only 
that  you  be  lost  to  her  forever." 

"  Wretch  !  "  cried  Jacques. 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  mocking  air,  and  her  eyes 
beamed  with  infernal  audacity. 

"  You  do  not  know  me  yet,"  she  cried.  "  Go,  speak, 
denounce  me !  M.  Folgat  no  doubt  has  told  you  how 
I  can  deny  and  defend  myself." 

Maddened  by  indignation,  and  excited  to  a  point 
where  reason  loses  its  power  over  us,  Jacques  de  Bois- 
coran  moved  with  uplifted  hand  towards  the  countess, 
when  suddenly  a  voice  said, — 

"  Do  not  strike  that  woman !  " 

Jacques  and  the  countess  turned  round,  and  uttered, 
both  at  the  same  instant,  the  same  kind  of  sharp,  ter- 


494     WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

rible  cry,  which  must  have  been  heard  a  great  dis- 
tance. 

In  the  frame  of  the  door  stood  Count  Claudieuse, 
a  revolver  in  his  hand,  and  ready  to  fire. 

He  looked  as  pale  as  a  ghost ;  and  the  white  flannel 
dressing-gown  which  he  had  hastily  thrown  around 
him  hung  like  a  pall  around  his  lean  limbs.  The  first 
cry  uttered  by  the  countess  had  been  heard  by  him 
on  the  bed  on  which  he  lay  apparently  dying.  A  ter- 
rible presentiment  had  seized  him.  He  had  risen  from 
his  bed,  and,  dragging  himself  slowly  along,  holding 
painfully  to  the  balusters,  he  had  come  down. 

"  I  have  heard  all,"  he  said,  casting  crushing  looks 
at  both  the  guilty  ones. 

The  countess  uttered  a  deep,  hoarse  sigh,  and  sank 
into  a  chair.  But  Jacques  drew  himself  up,  and  said, — 

"I  have  insulted  you  terribly,  sir.  Avenge  your- 
self." 

The  count  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  The  court  will  avenge  me,"  he  said. 

"  Great  God !  You  would  allow  me  to  be  con- 
demned for  a  crime  which  I  have  not  committed? 
Ah,  that  would  be  the  meanest  cowardice." 

The  count  was  so  feeble  that  he  had  to  lean  against 
the  door-post. 

"  Would  it  be  cowardly  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Then,  what 
do  you  call  the  act  of  that  miserable  man  who  meanly, 
disgracefully  robs  another  man  of  his  wife,  and  palms 
off  his  own  children  upon  him?  It  is  true  you  are 
neither  an  incendiary  nor  an  assassin.  But  what  is 
fire  in  my  house  in  comparison  with  the  ruin  of  all  my 
faith  ?  What  are  the  wounds  in  my  body  in  compari- 
son with  that  wound  in  my  heart,  which  never  can 
heal?  I  leave  you  to  the  court,  sir." 


JACQUES   DREW   HIMSELF    UP,    AND    SAID:    "SIR,    AVENGE    YOURSELF*' 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     495 

Jacques  was  terrified :  he  saw  the  abyss  opening 
before  him  that  was  to  swallow  him  up. 

"  Rather  death,"  he  cried,—"  death." 

And,  baring  his  breast,  he  said, — 

"  But  why  do  you  not  fire,  sir  ?  why  do  you  not 
fire  ?  Are  you  afraid  of  blood  ?  Shoot !  I  have  been 
the  lover  of  your  wife:  your  youngest  daughter  is 
my  child." 

The  count  lowered  his  weapon. 

"  The  courts  of  justice  are  more  certain,"  he  said. 
"  You  have  robbed  me  of  my  honor :  now  I  want  yours. 
And,  if  you  cannot  be  condemned  without  it,  I  shall 
say,  I  shall  swear,  that  I  recognized  you.  You  shall 
go  to  the  galleys,  M.  de  Boiscoran." 

He  was  on  the  point  of  coming  forward;  but  his 
strength  was  exhausted,  and  he  fell  forward,  face 
downward,  and  arms  outstretched. 

Overcome  with  horror,  half  mad,  Jacques  fled. 


XXIX. 

M.  FOLGAT  had  just  risen.  Standing  before  his 
mirror,  hung  up  to  one  of  the  windows  in  his  room, 
he  had  just  finished  shaving  himself,  when  the  door 
was  thrown  open  violently,  and  old  Anthony  appeared 
quite  beside  himself. 

"  Ah,  sir,  what  a  terrible  thing !  " 

"What?" 

"  Run  away,  disappeared !  " 

"Who?" 

"  Master  Jacques !  " 


496     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

The  surprise  was  so  great,  that  M.  Folgat  nearly 
let  his  razor  drop:  he  said,  however,  peremptorily, — 

"  That  is  false !  " 

"  Alas,  sir !  "  replied  the  old  servant,  "  everybody  is 
full  of  it  in  town.  All  the  details  are  known.  I  have 
just  seen  a  man  who  says  he  met  master  last  night, 
about  eleven  o'clock,  running  like  a  madman  down 
National  Street." 

"  That  is  absurd." 

"  I  have  only  told  Miss  Dionysia  so  far,  and  she 
sent  me  to  you.  You  ought  to  go  and  make  inquiry." 

The  advice  was  not  needed.  Wiping  his  face  hastily, 
the  young  advocate  went  to  dress  at  once.  He  was 
ready  in  a  moment;  and,  having  run  down  the  stairs, 
he  was  crossing  the  passage  when  he  heard  somebody 
call  his  name.  He  turned  round,  and  saw  Dionysia 
making  him  a  sign  to  come  into  the  boudoir  in  which 
she  was  usually  sitting.  He  did  so. 

Dionysia  and  the  young  advocate  alone  knew  what 
a  desperate  venture  Jacques  had  undertaken  the  night 
before.  They  had  not  said  a  word  about  it  to  each 
other;  but  each  had  noticed  the  preoccupation  of  the 
other.  All  the  evening  M.  Folgat  had  not  spoken  ten 
words,  and  Dionysia  had,  immediately  after  dinner, 
gone  up  to  her  own  room. 

"Well?"  she  asked. 

"  The  report,  madam,  must  be  false,"  replied  the 
advocate. 

"Who  knows?" 

"  His  evasion  would  be  a  confession  of  his  crime. 
It  is  only  the  guilty  who  try  to  escape;  and  M.  de 
Boiscoran  is  innocent.  You  can  rest  quite  assured, 
madam,  it  is  not  so.  I  pray  you  be  quiet." 

Who  would  not  have  pitied  the  poor  girl  at  that 


WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     497 

moment?  She  was  as  white  as  her  collar,  and  trem- 
bled violently.  Big  tears  ran  over  her  eyes;  and  at 
each  word  a  violent  sob  rose  in  her  throat. 

"  You  know  where  Jacques  went  last  night  ?  "  she 
asked  again. 

"  Yes." 

She  turned  her  head  a  little  aside,  and  went  on,  in 
a  hardly  audible  voice, — 

"  He  went  to  see  once  more  a  person  whose  influ- 
ence over  him  is,  probably,  all  powerful.  It  may  be 
that  she  has  upset  him,  stunned  him.  Might  she  not 
have  prevailed  upon  him  to  escape  from  the  disgrace 
of  appearing  in  court,  charged  with  such  a  crime  ?  " 

"  No,  madam,  no  !  " 

"  This  person  has  always  been  Jacques's  evil  genius. 
She  loves  him,  I  am  sure.  She  must  have  been  in- 
censed at  the  idea  of  his  becoming  my  husband.  Per- 
haps, in  order  to  induce  him  to  flee,  she  has  fled  with 
him." 

"  Ah !  do  not  be  afraid,  madam :  the  Countess  Clau- 
dieuse  is  incapable  of  such  devotion." 

Dionysia  threw  herself  back  in  utter  amazement; 
and,  raising  her  wide-open  eyes  to  the  young  advo- 
cate, she  said  with  an  air  of  stupefaction, — 

"  The  Countess  Claudieuse  ?  " 

M.  Folgat  saw  his  indiscretion.  He  had  been  under 
the  impression  that  Jacques  had  told  his  betrothed 
every  thing;  and  her  very  manner  of  speaking  had 
confirmed  him  in  his  conviction. 

"  Ah,  it  is  the  Countess  Claudieuse,"  she  went  on, — 
"  that  lady  whom  all  revere  as  if  she  were  a  saint. 
And  I,  who  only  the  other  day  marvelled  at  her  fervor 
in  praying, — I  who  pitied  her  with  all  my  heart, — I — 
Ah !  I  now  see  what  they  were  hiding  from  me." 


498     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

Distressed  by  the  blunder  which  he  had  committed, 
the  young  advocate  said, — 

"  I  shall  never  forgive  myself,  madam,  for  having 
mentioned  that  name  in  your  presence." 

She  smiled  sadly. 

"  Perhaps  you  have  rendered  me  a  great  service, 
sir.  But,  I  pray,  go  and  see  what  the  truth  is  about 
this  report." 

M.  Folgat  had  not  walked  down  half  the  street, 
when  he  became  aware  that  something  extraordinary 
must  really  have  happened.  The  whole  town  was  in 
uproar.  People  stood  at  their  doors,  talking.  Groups 
here  and  there  were  engaged  in  lively  discussions. 

Hastening  his  steps,  he  was  just  turning  into 
National  Street,  when  he  was  stopped  by  three  or 
four  gentlemen,  whose  acquaintance  he  had,  in  some 
way  or  other,  been  forced  to  make  since  he  was  at 
Sauveterre. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  one  of  these  amiable  friends, 
"  your  client,  it  seems,  is  running  about  nicely." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  replied  M.  Folgat  in  a  tone 
of  ice. 

"  Why  ?    Don't  you  know  your  client  has  run  off  ?  " 

"Are  you  quite  sure  of  that?'* 

"  Certainly.  The  wife  of  a  workman  whom  I  em- 
ploy was  the  person  through  whom  the  escape  became 
known.  She  had  gone  on  the  old  ramparts  to  cut 
grass  there  for  her  goat;  and,  when  she  came  to 
the  prison  wall,  she  saw  a  big  hole  had  been  made  there. 
She  gave  at  once  the  alarm ;  the  guard  came  up ;  and 
they  reported  the  matter  immediately  to  the  common- 
wealth attorney." 

For  M.  Folgat  the  evidence  was  not  satisfactory 
yet.  He  asked, — 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     499 

"Well?    And  M.  de  Boiscoran?" 

"  Cannot  be  found.  Ah,  I  tell  you,  it  is  just  as  I  say. 
I  know  it  from  a  friend  who  heard  it  from  a  clerk 
?t  the  mayor's  office.  Blangin  the  jailer,  they  say,  is 
seriously  implicated." 

"  I  hope  soon  to  see  you  again,"  said  the  young 
advocate,  and  left  him  abruptly. 

The  gentleman  seemed  to  be  very  grievously 
offended  at  such  treatment;  but  the  young  advocate 
paid  no  attention  to  him,  and  rapidly  crossed  the  New- 
Alarket  Square. 

He  was  becoming  apprehensive.  He  did  not  fear 
an  evasion,  but  thought  there  might  have  occurred 
some  fearful  catastrophe.  A  hundred  persons,  at 
least,  were  assembled  around  the  prison-doors,  stand- 
ing there  with  open  mouths  and  eager  eyes;  and  the 
sentinels  had  much  trouble  in  keeping  them  back. 

M.  Folgat  made  his  way  through  the  crowd,  and 
went  in. 

In  the  court-yard  he  found  the  commonwealth  attor- 
ney, the  chief  of  police,  the  captain  of  the  gendarmes, 
M.  Seneschal,  and,  finally,  M.  Galpin,  all  standing 
before  the  janitor's  lodge  in  animated  discussion.  The 
magistrate  looked  paler  than  ever,  and  was,  as  they 
called  it  in  Sauveterre,  in  bull-dog  humor.  There  was 
reason  for  it. 

He  had  been  informed  as  promptly  as  M.  Folgat, 
and  had,  with  equal  promptness,  dressed,  and  has- 
tened to  the  prison.  And  all  along  his  way,  unmis- 
takable evidence  had  proved  to  him  that  public  opinion 
was  fiercely  roused  against  the  accused,  but  that  it 
was  as  deeply  excited  against  himself. 

On  all  sides  he  had  been  greeted  by  ironical  saluta- 
tions, mocking  smiles,  and  even  expressions  of  condo- 


500     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

lence  at  the  loss  of  his  prisoner.  Two  men,  whom  he 
suspected  of  being  in  close  relations  with  Dr.  Seigne- 
bos,  had  even  murmured,  as  he  passed  by  them, — 

"  Cheated,  Mr.  Bloodhound." 

He  was  the  first  to  notice  the  young  advocate,  and 
at  once  said  to  him, — 

"  Well,  sir,  do  you  come  for  news  ?  " 

But  M.  Folgat  was  not  the  man  to  be  taken  in  twice 
the  same  day.  Concealing  his  apprehensions  under 
the  most  punctilious  politeness,  he  replied, — 

"  I  have  heard  all  kinds  of  reports ;  but  they  do  not 
affect  me.  M.  de  Boiscoran  has  too  much  confidence 
in  the  excellency  of  his  cause  and  the  justice  of  his 
country  to  think  of  escaping.  I  only  came  to  confer 
with  him." 

"  And  you  are  right !  "  exclaimed  M.  Daubigeon. 
"  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  in  his  cell,  utterly  unaware  of 
all  the  rumors  that  are  afloat.  It  was  Trumence  who 
has  run  off, — Trumence,  the  light-footed.  He  was 
kept  in  prison  for  form's  sake  only,  and  helped  the 
keeper  as  a  kind  of  assistant  jailer.  He  it  is  who 
has  made  a  hole  in  the  wall,  and  escaped,  thinking,  no 
doubt,  that  the  heavens  are  a  better  roof  than  the 
finest  jail." 

A  little  distance  behind  the  group  stood  Blangin, 
the  jailer,  affecting  a  contrite  and  distressed  air. 

"  Take  the  counsel  to  the  prisoner  Boiscoran,"  said 
M.  Galpin  dryly,  fearing,  perhaps,  that  M.  Daubigeon 
might  regale  the  public  with  all  the  bitter  epigrams 
with  which  he  persecuted  him  privately.  The  jailer 
bowed  to  the  ground,  and  obeyed  the  order;  but,  as 
soon  as  he  was  alone  with  M.  Folgat  in  the  porch  of 
the  building,  he  blew  up  his  cheek,  and  then  tapped 
it,  saying,— 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     501 

"  Cheated  all  around." 

Then  he  burst  out  laughing.  The  young  advocate 
pretended  not  to  understand  him.  It  was  but  prudent 
that  he  should  appear  ignorant  of  what  had  happened 
the  night  before,  and  thus  avoid  all  suspicion  of  a 
complicity  which  substantially  did  not  exist. 

"  And  still,"  Blangin  went  on,  "  this  is  not  the  end 
of  it  yet.  The  gendarmes  are  all  out.  If  they  should 
catch  my  poor  Trumence !  That  man  is  such  a  fool, 
the  most  stupid  judge  would  worm  his  secret  out  of 
him  in  five  minutes.  And  then,  who  would  be  in  a 
bad  box?" 

M.  Folgat  still  made  no  reply ;  but  the  other  did  not 
seem  to  mind  that  much.  He  continued, — 

"  I  only  want  to  do  one  thing,  and  that  is  to  give 
up  my  keys  as  soon  as  possible.  I  am  tired  of  this 
profession  of  jailer.  Besides,  I  shall  not  be  able  to 
stay  here  much  longer.  This  escape  has  put  a  flea  into 
the  ear  of  the  authorities,  and  they  are  going  to  give 
me  an  assistant,  a  former  police  sergeant,  who  is  as 
bad  as  a  watchdog.  Ah !  the  good  days  of  M.  de  Bois- 
coran  are  over :  no  more  stolen  visits,  no  more  prome- 
nades. He  is  to  be  watched  day  and  night." 

Blangin  had  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase  to 
give  all  these  explanations. 

"  Let  us  go  up,"  he  said  now,  as  M.  Folgat  showed 
signs  of  growing  impatience. 

He  found  Jacques  lying  on  his  bed,  all  dressed; 
and  at  the  first  glance  he  saw  that  a  great  misfortune 
had  happened. 

"  One  more  hope  gone  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  prisoner  raised  himself  up  with  difficulty,  and 
sat  up  on  the  side  of  his  bed;  then  he  replied  in  a 
voice  of  utter  despair, — 


502     WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  I  am  lost,  and  this  time  hopelessly." 

"  Oh !  " 

"Just  listen!" 

The  young  advocate  could  not  help  shuddering  as 
he  heard  the  account  given  by  Jacques  of  what  had 
happened  the  night  before.  And  when  it  was  finished, 
he  said, — 

"  You  are  right.  If  Count  Claudieuse  carries  out 
his  threat,  it  may  be  a  condemnation." 

"  It  must  be  a  condemnation,  you  mean.  Well,  you 
need  not  doubt.  He  will  carry  out  his  threat." 

And  shaking  his  head  with  an  air  of  desolation,  he 
added, — 

"  And  the  most  formidable  part  of  it  is  this :  I 
cannot  blame  him  for  doing  it.  The  jealousy  of  hus- 
bands is  often  nothing  more  than  self-love.  When 
they  find  they  have  been  deceived,  their  vanity  is 
offended;  but  their  heart  remains  whole.  But  in  this 
case  it  is  very  different.  He  not  only  loved  his  wife, 
he  worshipped  her.  She  was  his  happiness,  life  itself. 
When  I  took  her  from  him,  I  robbed  him  of  all  he 
had, — yes,  of  all !  I  never  knew  what  adultery  meant 
till  I  saw  him  overcome  with  shame  and  rage.  He  was 
left  without  any  thing  in  a  moment.  His  wife  had  a 
lover :  his  favorite  daughter  was  not  his  own !  I  suf- 
fer terribly ;  but  it  is  nothing,  I  am  sure,  in  compari- 
son with  what  he  suffers.  And  you  expect,  that,  hold- 
ing a  weapon  in  his  hand,  he  should  not  use  it?  It  is 
a  treacherous,  dishonest  weapon,  to  be  sure ;  but  have 
I  been  frank  and  honest  ?  It  would  be  a  mean,  ignoble 
vengeance,  you  will  say;  but  what  was  the  offence? 
In  his  place,  I  dare  say,  I  should  do  as  he  does." 

M.  Folgat  was  thunderstruck. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     503 

"But  after  that,"  he  asked,  "when  you  left  the 
house  ? " 

Jacques  passed  his  hand  mechanically  over  his  fore- 
head, as  if  to  gather  his  thoughts,  and  then  went  on, — 

"After  that  I  fled  precipitately,  like  a  man  who 
has  committed  a  crime.  The  garden-door  was  open, 
and  I  rushed  out.  I  could  not  tell  you  with  certainty 
in  what  direction  I  ran,  through  what  streets  I  passed. 
I  had  but  one  fixed  idea, — to  get  away  from  that  house 
as  quickly  and  as  far  as  possible.  I  did  not  know 
what  I  was  doing.  I  went,  I  went.  When  I  came  to 
myself,  I  was  many  miles  away  from  Sauveterre,  on 
the  road  to  Boiscoran.  The  instinct  of  the  animal 
within  me  had  guided  me  on  the  familiar  way  to 
my  house.  At  the  first  moment  I  could  not  compre- 
hend how  I  had  gotten  there.  I  felt  like  a  drunkard 
whose  head  is  filled  with  the  vapors  of  alcohol,  and 
who,  when  he  is  roused,  tries  to  remember  what  has 
happened  during  his  intoxication.  Alas !  I  recalled 
the  fearful  reality  but  too  soon.  I  knew  that  I  ought 
to  go  back  to  prison,  but  it  was  an  absolute  necessity ; 
and  yet  I  felt  at  times  so  weary,  so  exhausted,  that  I 
was  afraid  I  should  not  be  able  to  get  back.  Still  I 
did  reach  the  prison.  Blangin  was  waiting  for  me,  all 
anxiety ;  for  it  was  nearly  two  o'clock.  He  helped  me 
to  get  up  here.  I  threw  myself,  all  dressed  as  I  was, 
on  my  bed,  and  I  fell  fast  asleep  in  an  instant.  But 
my  sleep  was  a  miserable  sleep,  broken  by  terrible 
dreams,  in  which  I  saw  myself  chained  to  the  galleys, 
or  mounting  the  scaffold  with  a  priest  by  my  side; 
and  even  at  this  moment  I  hardly  know  whether  I  am 
awake  or  asleep,  and  whether  I  am  not  still  suffering 
under  a  fearful  nightmare." 


So4     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

M.  Folgat  could  hardly  conceal  a  tear.  He  mur- 
mured,— 

"Poor  man!" 

"  Oh,  yes,  poor  man  indeed ! "  repeated  Jacques. 
"  Why  did  I  not  follow  my  first  inspiration  last  night 
when  I  found  myself  on  the  high-road.  I  should  have 
gone  on  to  Boiscoran,  I  should  have  gone  up  stairs 
to  my  room,  and  there  I  should  have  blown  out  my 
brains.  I  should  then  suffer  no  more." 

Was  he  once  more  giving  himself  up  to  that  fatal 
idea  of  suicide? 

"And  your  parents,"  said  M.  Folgat. 

"  My  parents !  And  do  you  think  they  will  survive 
my  condemnation  ?  " 

"And  Miss  Chandore?" 

He  shuddered,  and  said  fiercely, — 

"  Ah !  it  is  for  her  sake  first  of  all  that  I  ought  to 
make  an  end  of  it.  Poor  Dionysia !  Certainly  she 
would  grieve  terribly  when  she  heard  of  my  suicide. 
But  she  is  not  twenty  yet.  My  memory  would  soon 
fade  in  her  heart ;  and  weeks  growing  into  months, 
and  months  into  years,  she  would  find  comfort.  To 
live  means  to  forget." 

"  No !  You  cannot  really  think  what  you  are  say- 
ing ! "  broke  in  M.  Folgat.  "  You  know  very  well 
that  she — she  would  never  forget  you !  " 

A  tear  appeared  in  the  eyes  of  the  unfortunate  man, 
and  he  said  in  a  half-smothered  voice, — 

"  You  are  right.  I  believe  to  strike  me  down  means 
to  strike  her  down  also.  But  do  you  think  what  life 
would  be  after  a  condemnation?  Can  you  imagine 
what  her  sensations  would  be,  if  day  after  day  she  had 
to  say  to  herself,  '  He  whom  alone  I  love  upon  earth 
is  at  the  galleys,  mixed  up  with  the  lowest  of  crimi- 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     505 

nals,  disgraced  for  life,  dishonored.'  Ah!  death  is  a 
thousand  times  preferable." 

"  Jacques,  M.  de  Boiscoran,  do  you  forget  that 
you  have  given  me  your  word  of  honor  ?  " 

"  The  proof  that  I  have  not  forgotten  it  is  that  you 
see  me  here.  But,  never  mind,  the  day  is  not  very 
far  off  when  you  will  see  me  so  wretched  that  you 
yourself  will  be  the  first  to  put  a  weapon  into  my 
hands." 

But  the  young  advocate  was  one  of  those  men 
whom  difficulties  only  excite  and  stimulate,  instead  of 
discouraging.  He  had  already  recovered  somewhat 
from  the  first  great  shock,  and  he  said, — 

"  Before  you  throw  down  your  hand,  wait,  at  least, 
till  the  game  is  lost.  You  are  not  sentenced  yet.  Far 
from  it !  You  are  innocent,  and  there  is  a  divine  jus- 
tice which  corrects  the  blunders  of  earthly  justice. 
Who  tells  us  that  Count  Claudieuse  will  really  give 
evidence?  We  do  not  even  know  whether  he  has  not, 
at  this  moment,  drawn  his  last  breath  upon  earth !  " 

Jacques  leaped  up  as  if  in  a  spasm,  and  turning 
deadly  pale,  exclaimed, — 

"Ah,  don't  say  that!  That  fatal  thought  has 
already  occurred  to  me,  that  perhaps  he  did  not  rise 
again  last  night.  Would  to  God  that  that  be  not  so ! 
for  then  I  should  but  too  surely  be  an  assassin.  He 
was  my  first  thought  when  I  awoke.  I  thought  of 
sending  out  to  make  inquiries.  But  I  did  not  dare 
do  it." 

M.  Folgat  felt  his  heart  oppressed  with  most  pain- 
ful anxiety,  like  the  prisoner  himself.  Hence  he  said 
at  once, — 

"  We  cannot  remain  in  this  uncertainty.  We  can 
do  nothing  as  long  as  the  count's  fate  is  unknown  to 


5o6     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

us;  for  on  his  fate  depends  ours.  Allow  me  to  leave 
you  now.  I  will  let  you  know  as  soon  as  I  hear  any 
thing  positive.  And,  above  all,  keep  up  your  courage, 
whatever  may  happen." 

The  young  advocate  was  sure  of  finding  reliable 
information  at  Dr.  Seignebos's  house.  He  hastened 
there;  and,  as  soon  as  he  entered,  the  physician 
cried, — 

"  Ah,  there  you  are  coming  at  last !  I  give  up 
twenty  of  my  worst  patients  to  see  you,  and  you  keep 
me  waiting  forever.  I  was  sure  you  would  come. 
What  happened  last  night  at  Count  Claudieuse's 
house?" 

"  Then  you  know  " — 

"  I  know  nothing.  I  have  seen  the  results ;  but  I  do- 
not  know  the  cause.  The  result  was  this:  last  night, 
about  eleven  o'clock,  I  had  just  gone  to  bed,  tired  to- 
death,  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  somebody  rings  my  bell 
as  if  he  were  determined  to  break  it.  I  do  not  like 
people  to  perform  so  violently  at  my  door;  and  I  was 
getting  up  to  let  the  man  know  my  mind,  when  Count 
Claudieuse's  servant  rushed  in,  pushing  my  own  serv- 
ant unceremoniously  aside,  and  cried  out  to  me  to 
come  instantly,  as  his  master  had  just  died." 

"  Great  God !  " 

"  That  is  what  I  said,  because,  although  I  knew  the 
count  was  very  ill,  I  did  not  think  he  was  so  near 
death." 

"  Then,  he  is  really  dead  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  But,  if  you  interrupt  me  continually, 
I  shall  never  be  able  to  tell  you." 

And  taking  off  his  spectacles,  wiping  them,  and  put- 
ting them  on  again,  he  went  on, — 

"  I  was  dressed  in  an  instant,  and  in  a  few  minutes- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     507 

I  was  at  the  house.  They  asked  me  to  go  into  the 
sitting-room  down  stairs.  There  I  found,  to  my  great 
amazement,  Count  Claudieuse,  lying  on  a  sofa.  He 
was  pale  and  stiff,  his  features  fearfully  distorted,  and 
on  his  forehead  a  slight  wound,  from  which  a  slender 
thread  of  blood  was  trickling  down.  Upon  my  word 
I  thought  it  was  all  over." 

"  And  the  countess  ?  " 

"  The  countess  was  kneeling  by  her  husband ;  and, 
with  the  help  of  her  women,  she  was  trying  to  resusci- 
tate him  by  rubbing  him,  and  putting  hot  napkins  on 
his  chest.  But  for  these  wise  precautions  she  would 
be  a  widow  at  this  moment;  whilst,  as  it  is,  he  may 
live  a  long  time  yet.  This  precious  count  has  a  won- 
derful tenacity  of  life.  We,  four  of  us,  then  took  him 
and  carried  him  up  stairs,  and  put  him  to  bed,  after 
having  carefully  warmed  it  first.  He  soon  began  to 
move;  he  opened  his  eyes;  and  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
later  he  had  recovered  his  consciousness,  and  spoke 
readily,  though  with  a  somewhat  feeble  voice.  Then, 
of  course,  I  asked  what  had  happened,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life  I  saw  the  marvellous  self-pos- 
session of  the  countess  forsake  her.  She  stammered 
pitifully,  looking  at  her  husband  with  a  most  fright- 
ened air,  as  if  she  wished  to  read  in  his  eyes  what 
she  should  say.  He  undertook  to  answer  me ;  but  he, 
also,  was  evidently  very  much  embarrassed.  He  said, 
that  being  left  alone,  and  feeling  better  than  usual, 
he  had  taken  it  into  his  head  to  try  his  strength.  He 
had  risen,  put  on  his  dressing-gown,  and  gone  down 
stairs;  but,  in  the  act  of  entering  the  room,  he  had 
become  dizzy,  and  had  fallen  so  unfortunately  as  to 
hurt  his  forehead  against  the  sharp  corner  of  a  table. 
I  affected  to  believe  it,  and  said,  '  You  have  done  a 


508     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

very  imprudent  thing,  and  you  must  not  do  it  again.' 
Then  he  looked  at  his  wife  in  a  very  singular  way, 
and  replied,  '  Oh !  you  can  be  sure  I  shall  not  commit 
another  imprudence.  I  want  too  much  to  get  well. 
I  have  never  wished  it  so  much  as  now.' " 

M.  Folgat  was  on  the  point  of  replying;  but  the 
doctor  closed  his  lips  with  his  hand,  and  said, — 

"  Wait,  I  have  not  done  yet." 

And,  manipulating  his  spectacles  most  assiduously, 
he  added, — 

"  I  was  just  going  home,  when  suddenly  a  cham- 
bermaid came  in  with  a  frightened  air  to  tell  the 
countess  that  her  older  daughter,  little  Martha,  whom 
you  know,  had  just  been  seized  with  terrible  convul- 
sions. Of  course  I  went  to  see  her,  and  found  her 
suffering  from  a  truly  fearful  nervous  attack.  It  was 
only  with  great  difficulty  I  could  quiet  her;  and  when 
I  thought  she  had  recovered,  suspecting  that  there  might 
be  some  connection  between  her  attack  and  the  acci- 
dent that  had  befallen  her  father,  I  said  in  the  most 
paternal  tone  I  could  assume,  '  Now,  my  child,  you 
must  tell  me  what  was  the  matter.'  She  hesitated 
a  while,  and  then  she  said,  '  I  was  frightened.' — 
'Frightened  at  what,  my  darling?'  She  raised  her- 
self on  her  bed,  trying  to  consult  her  mother's  eyes ; 
but  I  had  placed  myself  between  them,  so  that  she 
could  not  see  them.  When  I  repeated  my  question, 
she  said,  '  Well,  you  see,  I  had  just  gone  to  bed,  when 
I  heard  the  bell  ring.  I  got  up,  and  went  to  the  win- 
dow to  see  who  could  be  coming  so  late.  I  saw  the 
servant  go  and  open  the  door,  a  candlestick  in  her 
hand,  and  come  back  to  the  house,  followed  by  a 
gentleman  whom  I  did  not  know.'  The  countess  in- 
terrupted her  here,  saying,  '  It  was  a  messenger  from 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     509 

the  court,  who  had  been  sent  to  me  with  an  urgent 
letter.'  But  I  pretended  not  to  hear  her ;  and,  turning 
still  to  Martha,  I  asked  again,  '  And  it  was  this  gen- 
tleman who  frightened  you  so  ?  ' — '  Oh,  no ! ' — '  What 
then  ?  '  Out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye  I  was  watching 
the  countess.  She  seemed  to  be  terribly  embarrassed. 
Still  she  did  not  dare  to  stop  her  daughter.  '  Well, 
doctor,'  said  the  little  girl,  '  no  sooner  had  the  gentle- 
man gone  into  the  house  than  I  saw  one  of  the  statues 
under  the  trees  there  come  down  from  its  pedestal, 
move  on,  and  glide  very  quietly  along  the  avenue  of 
lime-trees.'  " 

M.  Folgat  trembled. 

"  Do  you  remember,  doctor,"  he  said,  "  the  day 
we  were  questioning  little  Martha,  she  said  she  was 
terribly  frightened  by  the  statues  in  the  garden  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed !  "  replied  the  doctor.  "  But  wait  a 
while.  The  countess  promptly  interrupted  her  daugh- 
ter, saying  to  me,  '  But,  dear  doctor,  you  ought  to 
forbid  the  child  to  have  such  notions  in  her  head.  .At 
Valpinson  she  never  was  afraid,  and  even  went  at 
night,  quite  alone,  and  without  a  light,  all  over  the 
house.  But  here  she  is  frightened  at  every  thing; 
and,  as  soon  as  night  comes,  she  fancies  the  garden  is 
full  of  ghosts.  You  are  too  big  now,  Martha,  to  think 
that  statues,  which  are  made  of  stone,  can  come  to  life, 
and  walk  about.'  The  child  was  shuddering. 

" '  The  other  times,  mamma,'  she  said,  '  I  was  not 
quite  sure;  but  this  time  I  am  sure.  I  wanted  to  go 
away  from  the  window,  and  I  could  not  do  it.  It  was 
too  strong  for  me:  so  that  I  saw  it  all,  saw  it  per- 
fectly. I  saw  the  statue,  the  ghost,  come  up  the  avenue 
slowly  and  cautiously,  and  then  place  itself  behind  the 
last  tree,  the  one  that  is  nearest  to  the  parlor  window. 


Sio     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

Then  I  heard  a  loud  cry,  then  nothing  more.  The 
ghost  remained  all  the  time  behind  the  tree,  and  I 
saw  all  it  did :  it  turned  to  the  left  and  the  right ;  it 
drew  itself  up ;  and  it  crouched  down.  Then,  all  of  a 
sudden,  two  terrible  cries ;  but,  O  mamma,  such  cries ! 
Then  the  ghost  raised  one  arm,  this  way,  and  all  of 
a  sudden  it  was  gone;  but  almost  the  same  moment 
another  one  came  out,  and  then  disappeared,  too.'  " 

M.  Folgat  was  utterly  overcome  with  amazement. 

"  Oh,  these  ghosts !  "  he  said. 

"  You  suspect  them,  do  you  ?  I  suspected  them  at 
once.  Still  I  pretended  to  turn  Martha's  whole  story 
into  a  joke,  and  tried  to  explain  to  her  how  the  dark- 
ness makes  us  liable  to  have  all  kinds  of  optical  illu- 
sions; so  that  when  I  left,  and  a  servant  was  sent 
with  a  candle  to  light  me  on  my  way,  the  countess  was 
quite  sure  that  I  had  no  suspicion.  I  had  none;  but 
I  had  more  than  that.  As  soon  as  I  entered  the  gar- 
den, therefore,  I  dropped  a  piece  of  money  which  I 
had  kept  in  my  hand  for  the  purpose.  Of  course  I  set 
to  work  looking  for  it  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  nearest  to 
the  parlor-window,  while  the  servant  helped  with  his 
candle.  Well,  M.  Folgat,  I  can  assure  you  that  it 
was  not  a  ghost  that  had  been  walking  about  under 
the  trees;  and,  if  the  footmarks  which  I  found  there 
were  made  by  a  statue,  that  statue  must  have  enormous 
feet,  and  wear  huge  iron-shod  shoes." 

The  young  advocate  was  prepared  for  this.  He 
said, — 

"  There  is  no  doubt :  the  scene  had  a  witness." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     511 

XXX. 

"  WHAT  scene  ?  What  witness  ?  That  is  what  I 
wanted  to  hear  from  you,  and  why  I  was  waiting  so 
impatiently  for  you,"  said  Dr.  Seignebos  to  M.  Folgat. 
"  I  have  seen  and  stated  the  results :  now  it  is  for 
you  to  give  me  the  cause." 

Nevertheless,  he  did  not  seem  to  be  in  the  least 
surprised  by  what  the  young  advocate  told  him  of 
Jacques's  desperate  enterprise,  and  of  the  tragic  result. 
As  soon  as  he  had  heard  it  all,  he  exclaimed, — 

"  I  thought  so :  yes,  upon  my  word !  By  racking 
my  brains  all  night  long,  I  had  very  nearly  guessed 
the  whole  story.  And  who,  in  Jacques's  place,  would 
not  have  been  desirous  to  make  one  last  effort?  But 
certainly  fate  is  against  him." 

"  Who  knows  ? "  said  M.  Folgat.  And,  without 
giving  the  doctor  time  to  reply,  he  went  on, — 

"  In  what  are  our  chances  worse  than  they  were 
before?  In  no  way.  We  can  to-day,  just  as  well  as 
we  could  yesterday,  lay  our  hands  upon  those  proofs 
which  we  know  do  exist,  and  which  would  save  us. 
Who  tells  us  that  at  this  moment  Sir  Francis  Burnett 
and  Suky  Wood  may  not  have  been  found?  Is  your 
confidence  in  Goudar  shaken  ?  " 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  not  at  all !  I  saw  him  this  morn- 
ing at  the  hospital,  when  I  paid  my  usual  visit;  and 
he  found  an  opportunity  to  tell  me  that  he  was  almost 
certain  of  success." 

"Well?" 

"  I  am  persuaded  Cocoleu  will  speak.  But  will  he 
speak  in  time?  That  is  the  question.  Ah,  if  we  had 
but  a  month's  time,  I  should  say  Jacques  is  safe.  But 


5i2     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

our  hours  are  counted,  you  know.  The  court  will  be 
held  next  week.  I  am  told  the  presiding  judge  has 
already  arrived,  and  M.  Gransiere  has  engaged  rooms 
at  the  hotel.  What  do  you  mean  to  do  if  nothing 
new  occurs  in  the  meantime  ?  " 

"  M.  Magloire  and  I  will  obstinately  adhere  to  our 
plan  of  defence." 

"  And  if  Count  Claudieuse  keeps  his  promise,  and 
declares  that  he  recognized  Jacques  in  the  act  of  fir- 
ing at  him  ?  " 

"  We  shall  say  he  is  mistaken." 

"  And  Jacques  will  be  condemned." 

"  Well,"  said  the  young  advocate. 

And  lowering  his  voice,  as  if  he  did  not  wish  to 
be  overheard,  he  added, — 

"  Only  the  sentence  will  not  be  a  final  sentence.  Ah, 
do  not  interrupt  me,  doctor,  and  upon  your  life,  upon 
Jacques's  life,  do  not  say  a  word  of  what  I  am  going 
to  tell  you.  A  suspicion  which  should  cross  M.  Gal- 
pin's  mind  would  destroy  my  last  hope ;  for  it  would 
give  him  an  opportunity  of  correcting  a  blunder  which 
he  has  committed,  and  which  justifies  me  in  saying 
to  you,  '  Even  if  the  count  should  give  evidence,  even 
if  sentence  should  be  passed,  nothing  would  be  lost 
yet.'  " 

He  had  become  animated;  and  his  accent  and  his 
gestures  made  you  feel  that  he  was  sure  of  himself. 

"  No,"  he  repeated,  "  nothing  would  be  lost ;  and 
then  we  should  have  time  before  us,  while  waiting 
for  a  second  trial,  to  hunt  up  our  witnesses,  and  to 
force  Cocoleu  to  tell  the  truth.  Let  the  count  say 
what  he  chooses,  I  like  it  all  the  better:  I  shall  thus 
be  relieved  of  my  last  scruples.  It  seemed  to  me 
odious  to  betray  the  countess,  because  I  thought  the 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     513 

most  cruelly  punished  would  be  the  count.  But,  if 
the  count  attacks  us,  we  are  on  the  defence ;  and 
public  opinion  will  be  on  our  side.  More  than  that, 
they  will  admire  us  for  having  sacrificed  our  honor 
to  a  woman's  honor,  and  for  having  allowed  ourselves 
to  be  condemned  rather  than  to  give  up  the  name  of 
her  who  has  given  herself  to  us." 

The  physician  did  not  seem  to  be  convinced ;  but  the 
young  advocate  paid  no  attention.  He  went  on, — 

"  No,  our  success  in  a  second  trial  would  be  almost 
certain.  The  scene  in  Mautrec  Street  has  been  seen 
by  a  witness :  his  iron-shod  shoes  have  left,  as  you 
say,  their  marks  under  the  linden-tree  nearest  to  the 
parlor-window,  and  little  Martha  has  watched  his 
movements.  Who  can  this  witness  be,  unless  it  is 
Trumence?  Well,  we  shall  lay  hands  upon  him.  He 
was  standing  so  that  he  could  see  every  thing,  and 
hear  every  word.  He  will  tell  what  he  saw  and  what 
he  heard.  He  will  tell  how  Count  Claudieuse  called 
out  to  M.  de  Boiscoran,  '  No,  I  do  not  want  to  kill 
you !  I  have  a  surer  vengeance  than  that :  you  shall 
go  to  the  galleys.'  " 

Dr.  Seignebos  sadly  shook  his  head  as  he  said, — 

"  I  hope  your  expectations  may  be  realized,  my 
dear  sir." 

But  they  came  again  for  the  doctor  the  third  time 
to-day.  Shaking  hands  with  the  young  advocate,  he 
parted  with  his  young  friend,  who  after  a  short  visit 
to  M.  Magloire,  whom  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  keep 
well  informed  of  all  that  was  going  on,  hastened  to 
the  house  of  M.  de  Chandore.  As  soon  as  he  looked 
into  Dionysia's  face,  he  knew  that  he  had  nothing  to 
tell  her;  that  she  knew  all  the  facts,  and  how  unjust 
her  suspicions  had  been. 


Si4     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  What  did  I  tell  you,  madam  ? "  he  said  very 
modestly. 

She  blushed,  ashamed  at  having  let  him  see  the 
secret  doubts  which  had  troubled  her  so  sorely,  and, 
instead  of  replying,  she  said, — 

"  There  are  some  letters  for  you,  M.  Folgat.  They 
have  carried  them  up  stairs  to  your  room." 

He  found  two  letters, — one  from  Mrs.  Goudar,  the 
other  from  the  agent  who  had  been  sent  to  England. 

The  former  was  of  no  importance.  Mrs.  Goudar 
only  asked  him  to  send  a  note,  which  she  enclosed, 
to  her  husband. 

The  second,  on  the  other  hand,  was  of  the  very 
greatest  interest.  The  agent  wrote, — 

"  Not  without  great  difficulties,  and  especially  not 
without  a  heavy  outlay  of  money,  I  have  at  length  dis- 
covered Sir  Francis  Burnett's  brother  in  London,  the 
former  cashier  of  the  house  of  Gilmour  and  Benson. 

"  Our  Sir  Francis  is  not  dead.  He  was  sent  by  his 
father  to  Madras,  to  attend  to  very  important  financial 
matters,  and  is  expected  back  by  the  next  mail  steamer. 
We  shall  be  informed  of  his  arrival  on  the  very  day 
on  which  he  lands. 

"  I  have  had  less  trouble  in  discovering  Suky 
Wood's  family.  They  are  people  very  well  off,  who 
keep  a  sailors'  tavern  in  Folkstone.  They  had  news 
from  their  daughter  about  three  weeks  ago;  but,  al- 
though they  profess  to  be  very  much  attached  to  her, 
they  could  not  tell  me  accurately  where  she  was  just 
now.  All  they  know  is,  that  she  has  gone  to  Jersey 
to  act  as  barmaid  in  a  public  house. 

"  But  that  is  enough  for  me.  The  island  is  not  very 
large ;  and  I  know  it  quite  well,  having  once  before 
followed  a  notary  public  there,  who  had  run  off  with 
the  money  of  his  clients.  You  may  consider  Suky  as 
safe. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     515 

"  When  you  receive  this  letter,  I  shall  be  on  my  way 
to  Jersey. 

"  Send  me  money  there  to  the  Golden  Apple  Hotel, 
where  I  propose  to  lodge.  Life  is  amazingly  dear  in 
London;  and  I  have  very  little  left  of  the  sum  you 
gave  me  on  parting." 

Thus,  in  this  direction,  at  least,  every  thing  was 
going  well. 

Quite  elated  by  this  first  success,  M.  Folgat  put  a 
thousand-franc  note  into  an  envelope,  directed  is  as 
desired,  and  sent  it  at  once  to  the  post-office.  Then 
he  asked  M.  de  Chandore  to  lend  him  his  carriage, 
and  went  out  to  Boiscoran. 

He  wanted  to  see  Michael,  the  tenant's  son,  who 
had  been  so  prompt  in  finding  Cocoleu,  and  in  bring- 
ing him  into  town.  He  found  him,  fortunately,  just 
coming  home,  bringing  in  a  cart  loaded  with  straw; 
and,  taking  him  aside,  he  asked  him, — 

"  Will  you  render  M.  de  Boiscoran  a  great 
service  ?  " 

"  What  must  I  do  ?  "  replied  the  young  man  in  a 
tone  of  voice  which  said,  better  than  all  protestations 
could  have  done,  that  he  was  ready  to  do  any  thing. 

"  Do  you  know  Trumence  ?  " 

"  The  former  basket-weaver  of  Tremblade  ?  " 

"  Exactly." 

"  Upon  my  word,  don't  I  know  him  ?  He  has  stolen 
apples  enough  from  me,  the  scamp!  But  I  don't 
blame  him  so  much,  after  all ;  for  he  is  a  good  fellow, 
in  spite  of  that." 

"  He  was  in  prison  at  Sauveterre." 

"  Yes,  I  know :  he  had  broken  down  a  gate  near 
Brechy  and  " — 

"  Well,  he  has  escaped." 


516     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Ah  the  scamp  !  " 

"  And  we  must  find  him  again.  They  have  put 
the  gendarmes  on  his  track ;  but  will  they  catch  him?  " 

Michael  burst  out  laughing. 

"  Never  in  his  life !  "  he  said.  "  Trumence  will 
make  his  way  to  Oleron,  where  he  has  friends :  the 
gendarmes  will  be  after  him  in  vain." 

M.  Folgat  slapped  Michael  amicably  on  the  shoulder, 
and  said, — 

"  But  you,  if  you  choose  ?  Oh !  do  not  look  angry 
at  me.  We  do  not  want  to  have  him  arrested.  All  I 
want  you  to  do  is  to  hand  him  a  letter  from  me,  and 
to  bring  me  back  his  answer." 

"  If  that  is  all,  then  I  am  your  man.  Just  give  me 
time  to  change  my  clothes,  and  to  let  father  know,  and 
1  am  off." 

Thus  M.  Folgat  began,  as  far  as  in  him  lay,  to  pre- 
pare for  future  action,  trying  to  counteract  all  the 
cunning  measures  of  the  prosecution  by  such  combi- 
nations as  were  suggested  to  him  by  his  experience 
and  his  genius. 

Did  it  follow  from  this,  that  his  faith  in  ultimate 
success  was  strong  enough  to  make  him  speak  of  it  to 
his  most  reliable  friends,  even,  say  to  Dr.  Seignebos, 
to  M.  Magloire,  or  to  good  M.  Mechinet? 

No;  for,  bearing  all  the  responsibility  on  his  own 
shoulders,  he  had  carefully  weighed  the  contrary 
chances  of  the  terrible  game  in  which  he  proposed  to 
engage,  and  in  which  the  stakes  were  the  honor  and 
the  life  of  a  man.  He  knew,  better  than  anybody  else, 
that  a  mere  nothing  might  destroy  all  his  plans,  and 
that  Jacques's  fate  was  dependent  on  the  most  trivial 
accident. 

Like  a  great  general  on  the  eve  of  a  battle,  he  man- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     517 

aged  to  control  his  feelings,  affecting,  for  the  benefit 
of  others,  a  confidence  which  he  did  not  really  feel, 
and  allowing  no  feature  of  his  face  to  betray  the 
great  anxiety  which  generally  kept  him  awake  more 
than  half  the  night. 

And  certainly  it  required  a  character  of  marvellous 
strength  to  remain  impassive  and  resolute  under  such 
circumstances. 

Everybody  around  him  was  in  despair,  and  gave  up 
all  hope. 

The  house  of  M.  de  Chandore,  once  so  full  of  life 
and  merriment,  had  become  as  silent  and  sombre  as  a 
tomb. 

The  last  two  months  had  made  of  M.  de  Chandore 
an  old  man  in  good  earnest.  His  tall  figure  had 
begun  to  stoop,  and  he  looked  bent  and  broken.  He 
walked  with  difficulty,  and  his  hands  began  to 
tremble. 

The  Marquis  de  Boiscoran  had  been  hit  even  harder. 
He,  who  a  few  weeks  before  looked  robust  and  hearty, 
now  appeared  almost  decrepit.  He  did  not  eat,  so  to 
say,  and  did  not  sleep.  He  became  frightfully  thin. 
It  gave  him  pain  to  utter  a  word. 

As  to  the  marchioness,  the  very  sources  of  life 
seemed  to  have  been  sapped  within  her.  She  had  had 
to  hear  M.  Magloire  say  that  Jacques's  safety  would 
have  been  put  beyond  all  doubt  if  they  had  succeeded 
in  obtaining  a  change  of  venue,  or  an  adjournment 
of  the  trial.  And  it  was  her  fault  that  such  a 
change  had  not  been  applied  for.  That  thought  was 
death  to  her.  She  had  hardly  strength  enough  left 
to  drag  herself  every  day  as  far  as  the  jail  to  see 
her  son. 

The  two   Misses   Lavarande   had  to  bear  all   the 


Si8     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

practical  difficulties  arising  from  this  sore  trial:  they 
went  and  came,  looking  as  pale  as  ghosts,  whispering 
in  a  low  voice,  and  walking  on  tiptoe,  as  if  there  had 
been  a  death  in  the  house. 

Dionysia  alone  showed  greater  energy  as  the 
troubles  increased.  She  did  not  indulge  in  much 
hope. 

"  I  know  Jacques  will  be  condemned,"  she  said  to 
M.  Folgat.  But  she  said,  also,  that  despair  belonged 
to  criminals  only,  and  that  the  fatal  mistake  for  which 
Jacques  was  likely  to  suffer  ought  to  inspire  his  friends 
with  nothing  but  indignation  and  thirst  for  vengeance. 

And,  while  her  grandfather  and  the  Marquis  de 
Boiscoran  went  out  as  little  as  possible,  she  took  pains 
to  show  herself  in  town,  astonishing  the  ladies  "  in 
good  society  "  by  the  way  in  which  she  received  their 
false  expressions  of  sympathy.  But  it  was  evident 
that  she  was  only  held  up  by  a  kind  of  feverish  ex- 
citement, which  gave  to  her  cheeks  their  bright  color, 
to  her  eyes  their  brilliancy,  and  to  her  voice  its  clear, 
silvery  ring.  Ah!  for  her  sake  mainly,  M.  Folgat 
longed  to  end  this  uncertainty  which  is  so  much  more 
painful  than  the  greatest  misfortune. 

The  time  was  drawing  near. 

As  Dr.  Seignebos  had  announced,  the  president  of 
the  tribunal,  M.  Domini,  had  already  arrived  in  Sauve- 
terre. 

He  was  one  of  those  men  whose  character  is  an  honor 
to  the  bench,  full  of  the  dignity  of  his  profession,  but 
not  thinking  himself  infallible,  firm  without  useless 
rigor,  cold  and  still  kind-hearted,  having  no  other 
mistress  but  Justice,  and  knowing  no  other  ambition 
but  that  of  establishing  the  truth. 

He  had  examined  Jacques,  as  he  was  bound  to  do ; 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     519 

but,  the  examination  had  been,  as  it  always  is,  a  mere 
formality,  and  had  led  to  no  result. 

The  next  step  was  the  selection  of  a  jury. 

The  jurymen  had  already  begun  to  arrive  from  all 
parts  of  the  department.  They  lodged  at  the  Hotel 
de  France,  where  they  took  their  meals  in  common  in 
the  large  back  dining-room,  which  is  always  specially 
reserved  for  their  use. 

In  the  afternoon  one  might  see  them,  looking  grave 
and  thoughtful,  take  a  walk  on  the  New-Market 
Square,  or  on  the  old  ramparts. 

M.  Gransiere,  also,  had  arrived.  But  he  kept  strictly 
in  retirement  in  his  room  at  the  Hotel  de  la  Poste, 
where  M.  Galpin  every  day  spent  several  hours  in  close 
conference  with  him.  • 

"  It  seems,"  said  Mechinet  in  confidence  to  M.  Fol- 
gat, — "  it  seems  they  are  preparing  an  overwhelming 
charge." 

The  day  after,  Dionysia  opened  "  The  Sauveterre 
Independent,"  and  found  in  it  an  announcement  of 
the  cases  set  down  for  each  day, — 

MONDAY.  —  Fraudulent  bankruptcy,  defalcation, 
forgery. 

TUESDAY. — Murder,  theft. 

WEDNESDAY. — Infanticide,  domestic  theft. 

THURSDAY. — Incendiarism,  and  attempted  assassina- 
tion (case  of  M.  de  Boiscoran). 

This  was,  therefore,  the  great  day  on  which  the 
good  people  of  Sauveterre  expected  to  enjoy  the  most 
delightful  emotions.  Hence  there  was  an  immense 
pressure  brought  to  bear  upon  all  the  principal  mem- 
bers of  the  court  to  obtain  tickets  of  admission. 
People  who,  the  night  before,  had  refused  to  speak  to 


52o     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

M.  Galpin,  would  stop  him  the  next  day  in  the  street, 
and  beg  him  to  give  them  a  ticket,  not  for  themselves, 
but  for  "  their  lady."  Finally,  the  unheard-of  fact 
became  known,  that  tickets  were  openly  sold  for 
money !  One  family  had  actually  the  incomprehensible 
courage  to  write  to  the  Marquis  de  Boiscoran  for  three 
tickets,  promising,  in  return,  "  by  their  attitude  in 
court"  to  contribute  to  the  acquittal  of  the  accused. 

In  the  midst  of  all  these  rumors,  the  city  was  sud- 
denly startled  by  a  list  of  subscriptions  in  behalf  of 
the  families  of  the  unfortunate  firemen  who  had  per- 
ished in  the  fire  at  Valpinson. 

Who  had  started  this  paper?  M.  Seneschal  tried  in 
vain  to  discover  the  hand  that  had  struck  this  blow. 
The  secret  of  this  treacherous  trick  was  well  kept. 
But  it  was  a  most  atrocious  trick  to  revive  thus,  on 
the  eve  of  the  trial,  such  mournful  memories  and  such 
bitter  hatred. 

"  That  man  Galpin  had  a  hand  in  it,"  said  Dr. 
Seignebos,  grinding  his  teeth.  "  And  to  think  that  he 
may,  after  all,  be  triumphant !  Ah,  why  did  not  Gou- 
dar  commence  his  experiment  a  little  sooner  ?  " 

For  Goudar,  while  assuring  everybody  of  certain 
success,  asked  for  time.  To  disarm  the  mistrust  of 
an  idiot  like  Cocoleu  was  not  the  work  of  a  day  or  a 
week.  He  declared,  that,  if  he  should  be  overhasty, 
he  would  most  assuredly  ruin  every  thing. 

Otherwise,  nothing  new  occurred. 

Count  Claudieuse  was  getting  rather  better. 

The  agent  in  Jersey  had  telegraphed  that  he  was 
on  Suky's  track;  that  he  would  certainly  catch  her, 
but  that  he  could  not  say  when. 

Michael,  finally,  had  in  vain  searched  the  whole  dis- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     521 

trict,  and  been  over  all  Oleron;  no  one  had  been  able 
to  give  him  any  news  of  Trumence. 

Thus,  on  the  day  when  the  session  began,  a  council 
was  held,  in  which  all  of  Jacques's  friends  took  part; 
and  here  it  was  resolved  that  his  counsel  would  not 
mention  the  name  of  the  Countess  Claudieuse,  and 
would,  even  if  the  count  should  offer  to  give  evidence, 
adhere  to  the  plan  of  defence  suggested  by  M.  Folgat. 

Alas!  the  chances  of  success  seemed  hourly  to 
diminish;  for  the  jury,  very  much  against  the  usual 
experience,  appeared  to  be  excessively  severe.  The 
bankrupt  was  sentenced  to  twenty  years'  hard  labor. 
The  man  accused  of  murder  could  not  even  obtain 
the  plea  of  "  extenuating  circumstances,"  and  was  sen- 
tenced to  death. 

This  was  on  Wednesday. 

It  was  decided  that  M.  de  Chandore  and  the  Mar- 
quis and  the  Marchioness  de  Boiscoran  should  attend 
the  trial.  They  wanted  to  spare  Dionysia  the  terrible 
excitement;  but  she  declared  that,  in  that  case,  she 
would  go  alone  to  the  court-house ;  and  thus  they  were 
forced  to  submit  to  her  will. 

Thanks  to  an  order  from  M.  Domini,  M.  Folgat  and 
M.  Magloire  could  spend  the  evening  with  Jacques  in 
order  to  determine  all  the  details,  and  to  agree  upon 
certain  replies  to  be  given. 

Jacques  looked  excessively  pale,  but  was  quite  com- 
posed. And  when  his  counsel  left  him,  saying, — 

"  Keep  up  your  courage  and  hope,"  he  replied, — 

"  Hope  I  have  none ;  but  courage — I  assure  you,  I 
have  courage ! " 


522     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

XXXI. 

AT  last,  in  his  dark  cell,  Jacques  de  Boiscoran  saw 
the  day  break  that  was  to  decide  his  fate. 

He  was  to  be  tried  to-day. 

The  occasion  was,  of  course,  too  good  to  be  neg- 
lected by  "  The  Sauveterre  Independent."  Although 
a  morning  paper,  it  published,  "  in  view  of  the  gravity 
of  the  circumstances,"  an  evening  edition,  which  a 
dozen  newsboys  cried  out  in  the  streets  up  to  mid- 
night. And  this  was  what  it  said, — 

ASSIZES   AT   SAUVETERRE. 

THURSDAY,  23. 

Presiding  Judge. — M.  DOMINI. 

ASSASSINATION  !  INCENDIARISM  ! 

[Special  Correspondence  of  the  Independent.] 

Whence  this  unusual  commotion,  this  uproar,  this 
great  excitement,  in  our  peaceful  city?  Whence  these 
gatherings  on  our  public  squares,  these  groups  in  front 
of  all  the  houses?  Whence  this  restlessness  on  all 
faces,  this  anxiety  in  all  eyes  ? 

The  reason  is,  that  to-day  this  terrible  Valpinson 
case  will  be  brought  up  in  court,  after  having  for  so 
many  weeks  now  agitated  our  people. 

To-day  this  man  who  is  charged  with  such  fearful 
crimes  is  to  be  tried. 

Hence  all  steps  are  eagerly  turned  towards  the 
court-house :  the  people  all  hurry,  and  rush  in  the 
same  direction. 

The  court-house !  Long  before  daylight  it  was  sur- 
rounded by  an  eager  multitude,  which  the  constables 


523 

and  the  gendarmes  could  only  with  difficulty  keep 
within  bounds. 

They  press  and  crowd  and  push.  Coarse  words  fly 
to  and  fro.  From  words  they  pass  to  gestures,  from 
gestures  to  blows.  A  row  is  imminent.  Women  cry, 
men  swear,  and  two  peasants  from  Brechy  are  arrested 
on  the  spot. 

It  is  well  known  that  there  will  be  few  only,  happy 
enough  to  get  in.  The  great  square  would  not  con- 
tain all  these  curious  people,  who  have  gathered  here 
from  all  parts  of  the  district :  how  should  the  court- 
room be  able  to  hold  them? 

And  still  our  authorities,  always  anxious  to  please 
their  constituents,  who  have  bestowed  their  confidence 
upon  them,  have  resorted  to  heroic  measures.  They 
have  had  two  partition  walls  taken  down,  so  that  a 
part  of  the  great  hall  is  added  to  the  court-room 
proper. 

M.  Lautier,  the  city  architect,  who  is  a  good  judge 
in  such  matters,  assures  us  that  this  immense  hall  will 
accommodate  twelve  hundred  persons. 

But  what  are  twelve  hundred  persons? 

Long  before  the  hour  fixed  for  the  opening  of  the 
court,  every  thing  is  full  to  overflowing.  A  pin  might 
be  thrown  into  the  room,  and  it  could  not  fall  to  the 
ground. 

Not  an  inch  of  space  is  lost.  All  around,  along  the 
wall  men  are  standing  in  close  ranks.  On  both  sides 
of  the  platform,  chairs  have  been  put,  which  are  occu- 
pied by  a  large  number  of  our  first  ladies  in  good 
society,  not  only  of  Sauveterre,  however,  but  also  of 
the  neighborhood  and  even,  other  cities.  Some  of 
them  appear  in  magnificent  toilettes. 

A  thousand  reports  are  current,  a  thousand  conjee- 


524     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

tures  are  formed,  which  we  shall  take  care  not  to 
report.  Why  should  we?  Let  us  say,  however,  that 
the  accused  has  not  availed  himself  of  his  right  to 
reject  a  certain  number  of  jurymen.  He  has  accepted 
all  the  names  which  were  drawn  by  lot,  and  which  the 
prosecuting  attorney  did  not  object  to. 

We  obtained  this  information  from  an  attorney,  a 
friend  of  ours;  and,  just  as  he  had  told  us  all  about 
it,  a  great  noise  arose  at  the  door,  which  was  followed 
by  rapid  moving  of  chairs,  and  half-smothered  excla- 
mations. 

It  was  the  family  of  the  accused,  who  had  come  in, 
and  now  occupied  the  seats  assigned  them  close  by 
the  platform. 

The  Marquis  de  Boiscoran  had  on  his  arm  Miss 
Chandore,  who  wore  with  great  grace  and  dignity  a 
dark  gray  dress,  trimmed  with  cherry-colored  ribbons. 
M.  de  Chandore  escorted  the  Marchioness  de  Boisco- 
ran. The  marquis  and  the  baron  looked  cold  and 
reserved.  The  mother  of  the  accused  appears  utterly 
overcome.  Miss  Chandore,  on  the  contrary,  is  lively, 
does  not  seem  in  the  least  concerned,  and  returns  with 
a  bright  smile  the  few  greetings  she  receives  from 
various  parts  of  the  court-room. 

But  soon  they  are  no  longer  an  object  of  curiosity. 

The  attention  of  all  is  now  directed  towards  a  large 
table  standing  before  the  judges,  and  on  which  may  be 
seen  a  number  of  articles  covered  by  large  red  cloth. 

These  are  the  articles  to  be  used  as  evidence. 

In  the  meantime  it  strikes  eleven  o'clock.  The  sher- 
iff's officers  move  about  the  room,  seeing  that  every 
thing  is  in  order. 

Then  a  small  door  opens  on  the  left,  and  the  counsel 
for  the  defence  enter. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     525 

Our  readers  know  who  they  are.  One  is  M.  Ma- 
gloire,  the  ornament  of  our  bar;  the  other,  an  advo- 
cate from  the  capital,  M.  Folgat,  quite  young,  but  al- 
ready famous. 

M.  Magloire  looks  as  he  does  on  his  best  days,  and 
smilingly  converses  with  the  mayor  of  Sauveterre; 
while  M.  Folgat  opens  his  blue  bag,  and  consults  his 
papers. 

Half-past  eleven ! 

An  usher  announces, — 

The  court. 

M.  Domini  takes  the  chair.  M.  Gransiere  occupies 
the  seat  of  the  prosecuting  attorney. 

Behind  them  the  jurymen  sit  down,  looking  grave 
and  solemn. 

All  of  a  sudden  a  great  tumult. 

Everybody  rises,  everybody  strains  his  eyes  to  see, 
and  stands  on  tiptoe.  Some  persons  in  the  back  rows 
even  get  upon  their  chairs. 

The  president  has  ordered  the  prisoner  to  be 
brought  in. 

He  appears. 

He  is  dressed  in  black,  and  with  great  elegance.  It 
is  noticed  that  he  wears  in  his  buttonhole  the  ribbon  of 
the  Legion  of  Honor. 

He  looks  pale ;  but  his  eye  is  clear  and  open,  full  of 
confidence,  yet  not  defiant.  His  carriage  is  proud, 
though  melancholy. 

He  has  hardly  taken  his  seat  when  a  gentleman 
passes  over  three  rows  of  chairs,  and,  in  spite  of  the 
officers  of  the  court,  succeeds  in  shaking  hands  with 
him.  It  is  Dr.  Seignebos. 

The  president  orders  the  sheriff  to  proclaim  silence ; 
and,  after  having  reminded  the  audience  that  all  ex- 


526     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

pressions  of  approbation  or  disapprobation  are  strictly 
prohibited,  he  turns  to  the  accused,  and  asks  him, — 

"  Tell  me  your  first  names,  your  family  name,  your 
age,  your  profession,  and  your  domicile." 

The  accused  replies, — 

"  Louis  Trivulce  Jacques  de  Boiscoran,  twenty-seven 
years,  land-owner,  residing  at  Boiscoran,  district  of 
Sauveterre." 

"  Sit  down,  and  listen  to  the  charges  which  are 
brought  against  you." 

The  clerk,  M.  Mechinet,  thereupon  reads  the  charges, 
which,  in  their  terrible  simplicity,  cause  a  shudder  to 
pass  through  the  whole  audience. 

We  shall  not  repeat  them  here,  as  all  the  incidents 
which  they  relate  are  well  known  to  our  readers. 

[Examination  of  the  Accused.] 

PRESIDENT. — Accused,  rise  and  answer  clearly.  Dur- 
ing the  preliminary  investigation,  you  have  refused  to 
answer  several  questions.  Now  the  matter  must  be 
cleared  up.  And  I  am  bound  to  tell  you  it  is  to  your 
interest  to  answer  frankly. 

ACCUSED. — No  one  desires  more  than  I  do  that  the 
truth  be  known!  I  am  ready  to  answer. 

P. — Why  were  you  so  reticent  in  your  first  ex- 
amination ? 

A. — I  thought  it  important  for  my  interests  to  an- 
swer only  in  court. 

P. — You  have  heard  of  what  crimes  you  are 
accused  ? 

A. — I  am  innocent.  And,  first  of  all,  I  beg  you  will 
allow  me  to  say  one  thing.  The  crime  committed  at 
Valpinson  is  an  atrocious,  cowardly  crime;  but  it  is 
at  the  same  time  an  absurdly  stupid  crime,  more  like  the 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     527 

unconscious  act  of  a  madman.  Now,  I  have  always 
been  looked  upon  as  not  lacking  exactly  in  intelligence. 

P. — That  is  a  discussion. 

A. — Stili,  Mr.  President — 

P. — Hereafter  you  shall  have  full  liberty  to  state 
your  argument.  For  the  present,  you  must  be  content 
to  answer  the  questions  which  I  shall  ask  you. 

A. — I  submit. 

P. — Were  you  not  soon  to  be  married  ? 

At  this  question  all  eyes  are  turned  towards  Miss 
Chandore,  who  blushes  till  she  is  as  red  as  a  poppy, 
but  does  not  cast  down  her  eyes. 

A. —  (In  a  low  voice.)     Yes. 

P. — Did  you  not  write  to  your  betrothed  a  few  hours 
before  the  crime  was  committed  ? 

A. — Yes,  sir ;  and  I  sent  her  my  letter  by  the  son  of 
one  of  my  tenants,  Michael. 

P. — What  did  you  write  to  her? 

A. — That  important  business  would  prevent  me  from 
spending  the  evening  with  her. 

P. — What  was  that  business  ? 

At  the  moment  when  the  accused  opened  his  lips  to 
reply,  the  president  stopped  him  by  a  gesture,  and 
said, — 

P. — Take  care !  You  were  asked  this  question  dur- 
ing the  preliminary  investigation,  and  you  replied  that 
you  had  to  go  to  Brechy  to  see  your  wood-merchant. 

A. — I  did  indeed  make  that  reply  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment.  It  was  not  exact. 

P. — Why  did  you  tell  a  falsehood? 

A. —  (After  an  expression  of  indignation,  which  was 
noticed  by  all.)  I  could  not  believe  that  I  was  in  dan- 
ger. It  seemed  to  me  impossible  that  I  should  be 
reached  by  an  accusation,  which,  nevertheless,  has 


528     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

brought  me  into  this  court.  Hence  I  did  not  deem  it 
necessary  to  make  my  private  affairs  public. 

P. — But  you  very  soon  found  out  that  you  were  in 
danger  ? 

A.— Yes,  I  did. 

P. — Why  did  you  not  tell  the  truth  then? 

A. — Because  the  magistrate  who  carried  on  the  in- 
vestigation had  been  too  intimate  a  friend  of  mine  to 
inspire  me  with  confidence. 

P. — Explain  yourself  more  fully. 

A. — I  must  ask  leave  to  say  no  more.  I  might,  in 
speaking  of  M.  Galpin,  be  found  to  be  wanting  in  mod- 
eration. 

A  low  murmur  accompanies  this  reply  made  by  the 
accused. 

P. — Such  murmurs  are  improper,  and  I  remind  the 
audience  of  the  respect  due  to  the  court. 

M.  Gransiere,  the  prosecuting  attorney,  rises, — 

"  We  cannot  tolerate  such  recriminations  against  a 
magistrate  who  has  done  his  duty  nobly,  and  in  spite  of 
the  pain  it  caused  him.  If  the  accused  had  well- 
founded  objections  to  the  magistrate,  why  did  he  not 
make  them  known?  He  cannot  plead  ignorance:  he 
knows  the  law,  he  is  a  lawyer  himself.  His  counsel, 
moreover,  are  men  of  experience." 

M.  Magloire  replies,  in  his  seat, — 

"  We  were  of  opinion  that  the  accused  ought  to  ask 
for  a  change  of  venue.  He  declined  to  follow  our  ad- 
vice, being  confident,  as  he  said,  that  his  cause  was  a 
good  one." 

M.  Gransiere,  resuming  his  seat, — 

"  The  jury  will  judge  of  this  plea." 

P. — (To  tne  accused.)  And  now  are  you  ready,  to 
tell  the  truth  with  regard  to  that  business  which  pre- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     529 

vented  you  from  spending  the  evening  with  your  be- 
trothed? 

A. — Yes,  sir.  My  wedding  was  to  take  place  at  the 
church  in  Brechy,  and  I  had  to  make  my  arrangements 
with  the  priest  about  the  ceremony.  I  had,  besides,  to 
fulfil  certain  religious  duties.  The  priest  at  Brechy, 
who  is  a  friend  of  mine,  will  tell  you,  that,  although 
no  day  had  been  fixed,  it  had  been  agreed  upon  between 
us  that  I  should  come  to  confession  on  one  of  the  even- 
ings of  that  week,  since  he  insisted  upon  it. 

The  audience,  which  had  been  expecting  some  very 
exciting  revelations,  seemed  to  be  much  disappointed ; 
and  ironical  laughter  was  heard  in  various  directions. 

P. — (In  a  severe  tone  of  voice.)  This  laughter  is 
indecent  and  objectionable.  Sheriff,  take  out  the  per- 
sons who  presume  to  laugh.  And  once  more  I  give 
notice,  that,  at  the  first  disturbance,  I  shall  order  the 
room  to  be  cleared. 

Then,  turning  again  to  the  accused,  he  said, — 

P.— Go  on! 

A. — I  went  therefore  to  the  priest  at  Brechy,  that 
evening:  unluckily  there  was  no  one  at  home  at  the 
parsonage  when  I  got  there.  I  was  ringing  the  third 
or  fourth  time  in  vain,  when  a  little  peasant-girl  came 
by,  who  told  me  that  she  had  just  met  the  priest  at  the 
Marshalls'  Cross-roads.  I  thought  at  once  I  would  go 
and  meet  him,  and  went  in  that  direction.  But  I 
walked  more  than  four  miles  without  meeting  him.  I 
thought  the  girl  must  have  been  mistaken,  and  went 
home  again. 

P. — Is  that  your  explanation? 

A.— Yes. 

P. — And  you  think  it  a  plausible  one  ? 

A. — I  have  promised  to  say  not  what  is  plausible,  but 


530     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

what  is  true.  I  may  confess,  however,  that,  precisely 
because  the  explanation  is  so  simple,  I  did  not  venture 
at  first  to  give  it.  And  yet  if  no  crime  had  been  com- 
mitted, and  I  had  said  the  day  after,  "  Yesterday  I 
went  to  see  the  priest  at  Brechy,  and  did  not  find  him," 
who  would  have  seen  any  thing  unnatural  in  my 
statement  ? 

P. — And,  in  order  to  fulfil  so  simple  a  duty,  you 
chose  a  roundabout  way,  which  is  not  only  trouble- 
some, but  actually  dangerous,  right  across  the  swamps  ? 

'A. — I  chose  the  shortest  way. 

P. — Then,  why  were  you  so  frightened  upon  meet- 
ing young  Ribot  at  the  Seille  Canal  ? 

A. — I  was  not  frightened,  but  simply  surprised,  as 
one  is  apt  to  be  when  suddenly  meeting  a  man  where  no 
one  is  expected.  And,  if  I  was  surprised,  young  Ri- 
bot was  not  less  so. 

P. — You  see  that  you  hoped  to  meet  no  one  ? 

A. — Pardon  me,  I  did  not  say  so.  To  expect  is  not 
the  same  as  to  hope. 

P. — Why,  then,  did  you  take  such  pains  to  explain 
your  being  there  ? 

A. — I  gave  no  explanations.  Young  Ribot  first  told 
me,  laughingly,  where  he  was  going,  and  then  I  told 
him  that  I  was  going  to  Brechy. 

P. — You  told  him,  also,  that  you  were  going  through 
the  marshes  to  shoot  birds,  and  at  the  same  time  you 
showed  him  your  gun? 

A. — That  may  be.  But  is  that  any  proof  against  me  ? 
I  think  just  the  contrary.  If  I  had  had  such  criminal 
intentions  as  the  prosecution  suggests,  I  should  cer- 
tainly have  gone  back  after  meeting  people,  knowing 
that  I  was  exposed  to  great  danger.  But  I  was  only 
going  to  see  my  friend,  the  priest. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     531 

P. — And  for  such  a  visit  you  took  your  gun? 

A. — My  land  lies  in  the  woods  and  marshes,  and 
there  was  not  a  day  when  I  did  not  bag  a  rabbit  or  a 
waterfowl.  Everybody  in  the  neighborhood  will  tell 
you  that  I  never  went  out  without  a  gun. 

P. — And  on  your  return,  why  did  you  go  through 
the  forest  of  Rochepommier  ? 

A. — Because,  from  the  place  where  I  was  on  the 
road,  it  was  probably  the  shortest  way  to  Boiscoran.  I 
say  probably,  because  just  then  I  did  not  think  much 
about  that.  A  man  who  is  taking  a  walk  would  be 
very  much  embarrassed,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  if  he 
had  to  give  a  precise  account  why  he  took  one  road 
rather  than  another. 

P. — You  were  seen  in  the  forest  by  a  woodcutter, 
called  Gaudry? 

A. — So  I  was  told  by  the  magistrate. 

P. — That  witness  deposes  that  you  were  in  a  state  of 
great  excitement.  You  were  tearing  the  leaves  from 
the  branches,  you  were  talking  loud. 

A. — I  certainly  was  very  much  vexed  at  having  lost 
my  evening,  and  particularly  vexed  at  having  relied  on 
the  little  peasant-girl.  It  is  quite  likely  that  I  might 
have  exclaimed,  as  I  walked  along,  "  Plague  upon  my 
friend,  the  priest,  who  goes  and  dines  in  town ! "  or 
some  such  words. 

There  was  a  smile  in  the  assembly,  but  not  such  as 
to  attract  the  president's  attention. 

P. — You  know  that  the  priest  of  Brechy  was  dining 
out  that  day? 

M.  Magloire  rose,  and  said, — 

"  It  is  through  us,  sir,  that  the  accused  has  found  out 
this  fact.  When  he  told  us  how  he  had  spent  the  even- 
ing, we  went  to  see  the  priest  at  Brechy,  who  told  us 


532     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

how  it  came  about  that  neither  he  nor  his  old  servant 
was  at  the  parsonage.  At  our  request  the  priest  has 
been  summoned.  We  shall  also  produce  another  priest, 
who  at  that  time  passed  the  Marshalls'  Cross-roads, 
and  was  the  one  whom  the  little  girl  had  seen." 

Having  made  a  sign  to  counsel  to  sit  down  again,  the 
president  once  more  turns  to  the  accused. 

P. — The  woman  Courtois  who  met  you  deposes  that 
you  looked  very  curious.  You  did  not  speak  to  her: 
you  were  in  great  haste  to  escape  from  her. 

A. — The  night  was  much  too  dark  for  the  woman  to 
see  my  face.  She  asked  me  to  render  her  a  slight  serv- 
ice, and  I  did  so.  I  did  not  speak  to  her,  because  I  had 
nothing  to  say  to  her.  I  did  not  leave  her  suddenly, 
but  only  got  ahead  of  her,  because  her  ass  walked  very 
slowly. 

At  a  sign  from  the  president,  the  ushers  raise  the 
red  cloth  which  cover  the  objects  on  the  table. 

Great  curiosity  is  manifested  by  the  whole  audience ; 
and  all  rise,  and  stretch  their  necks  to  see  better.  On 
the  table  are  displayed  clothes,  a  pair  of  velveteen  trou- 
sers, a  shooting-jacket  of  maroon-colored  velveteen,  an 
old  straw  hat,  and  a  pair  of  dun-colored  leather  boots. 
By  their  side  lie  a  double-barrelled  gun,  packages  of 
cartridges,  two  bowls  rilled  with  small-shot,  and,  fi- 
nally, a  large  china  basin,  with  a  dark  sediment  at  the 
bottom. 

P. —  (Showing  these  objects  to  the  accused.)  Are 
those  the  clothes  which  you  wore  the  evening  of  the 
crime  ? 

A. — Yes,  sir. 

P. — A  curious  costume  in  which  to  visit  a  venerable 
ecclesiastic,  and  to  perform  religious  duties. 

A. — The  priest  at  Brechy  was  my  friend.    Our  inti- 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     533 

macy  will  explain,  even  if  it  does  not  justify,  the  liberty 
I  took. 

P. — Do  you  also  recognize  this  basin?  The  water 
has  been  allowed  to  evaporate,  and  the  residue  alone 
remains  there  on  the  bottom. 

A. — It  is  true,  that,  when  the  magistrate  appeared  at 
my  house,  he  found  there  this  basin  full  of  dark  water, 
which  was  thick  with  half-burnt  debris.  He  asked  me 
about  this  water,  and  I  did  not  hesitate  a  moment  to 
tell  him  that  I  had  washed  my  hands  in  it  the  evening 
before,  after  my  return  home. 

Is  it  not  evident,  that  if  I  had  been  guilty,  my  first 
effort  would  have  been  to  put  every  evidence  of  my 
crime  out  of  the  way?  And  yet  this  circumstance  is 
looked  upon  as  the  strongest  evidence  of  my  guilt,  and 
the  prosecution  produces  it  as  the  most  serious  charge 
against  me. 

P. — It  is  very  strong  and  serious  indeed. 

A. — Well,  nothing  can  be  more  easily  explained  than 
that.  I  am  a  great  smoker.  When  I  left  home  the 
evening  of  the  crime,  I  took  cigars  in  abundance ;  but, 
when  I  was  about  to  light  one,  I  found  that  I  had  no 
matches. 

M.  Magloire  rises,  and  says, — 

"  And  I  wish  to  point  out  that  this  is  not  one  of  those 
explanations  which  are  invented,  after  the  fact,  to  meet 
the  necessities  of  a  doubtful  cause.  We  have  absolute 
and  overwhelming  proof  of  it.  M.  de  Boiscoran  did 
not  kave  the  little  match-box  which  he  usually  carries 
about  him,  at  that  time,  because  he  had  left  it  at  M.  de 
Chandore's  house,  on  the  mantelpiece,  where  I  have 
seen  it,  and  where  it  still  is." 

P. — That  is  sufficient,  M.  Magloire.  Let  the  defend- 
ant go  on. 


534     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

A. — I  wanted  to  smoke ;  and  so  I  resorted  to  the 
usual  expedient,  which  all  sportsmen  know.  I  tore 
open  one  of  my  cartridges,  put,  instead  of  the  lead,  a 
piece  of  paper  inside,  and  set  it  on  fire. 

P. — And  thus  you  get  a  light  ? 

A. — Not  always,  but  certainly  in  one  case  out  of 
three. 

P. — And  that  operation  blackens  the  hands? 

A. — Not  the  operation  itself.  But,  when  I  had  lit 
my  cigar,  I  could  not  throw  away  the  burning  paper 
as  it  was :  I  might  have  kindled  a  regular  fire. 

P. — In  the  marshes? 

A. — But,  sir,  I  smoked  five  or  six  cigars  during  the 
evening,  which  means  that  I  had  to  repeat  the  opera- 
tion a  dozen  times  at  least,  and  in  different  places, — in 
the  woods  and  on  the  high-road.  Each  time  I  quenched 
the  fire  with  my  fingers ;  and,  as  the  powder  is  always 
greasy,  my  hands  naturally  became  soon  as  black  as 
those  of  a  charcoal-burner. 

The  accused  gives  this  explanation  in  a  perfectly 
natural  but  still  rather  excited  manner,  which  seems 
to  make  a  great  impression. 

P. — Let  us  go  on  to  your  gun.    Do  you  recognize  it? 

A. — Yes,  sir.    May  I  look  at  it  ? 

P.— Yes. 

The  accused  takes  up  the  gun  with  feverish  eager- 
ness, snaps  the  two  cocks,  and  puts  one  of  his  fingers 
inside  the  barrels. 

He  turns  crimson,  and,  bending  down  to  his  counsel, 
says  a  few  words  to  them  so  quickly  and  so  low,  that 
they  do  not  reach  us. 

P. — What  is  the  matter? 

M.  MAGLOIRE. — (Rising.)  A  fact  has  become  patent 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     535 

which  at  once  establishes  the  innocence  of  M.  de  Bois- 
coran.  By  providential  intercession,  his  servant  An- 
thony had  cleaned  the  gun  two  days  before  the  day  of 
the  crime.  It  appears  now  that  one  of  the  barrels  is 
still  clean,  and  in  good  condition.  Hence  it  cannot 
be  M.  de  Boiscoran  who  has  fired  twice  at  Count 
Claudieuse. 

During  this  time  the  accused  has  gone  up  to  the  table 
on  which  the  objects  are  lying.  He  wraps  his  hand- 
kerchief around  the  ramrod,  slips  it  into  one  of  the 
barrels,  draws  it  out  again,  and  shows  that  it  is  hardly 
soiled. 
.  The  whole  audience  is  in  a  state  of  great  excitement. 

P. — Do  the  same  thing  with  the  other  barrel. 

The  accused  does  it.  The  handkerchief  remains 
clean. 

P. — You  see,  and  still  you  have  told  us  that  you  had 
burnt,  perhaps,  a  dozen  cartridges  to  light  your  cigars. 
But  the  prosecution  had  foreseen  this  objection,  and 
they  are  prepared  to  meet  it.  Sheriff,  bring  in  the  wit- 
ness, Maucroy. 

Our  readers  all  know  this  gentleman,  whose  beau- 
tiful collection  of  weapons,  sporting-articles,  and  fish- 
ing-tackle, is  one  of  the  ornaments  of  our  great  Square. 
He  is  dressed  up,  and  without  hesitation  takes  the  re- 
quired oath. 

P. — Repeat  your  deposition  with  regard  to  this  gun. 

WITNESS. — It  is  an  excellent  gun,  and  very  costly: 
such  guns  are  not  made  in  France,  where  people  are  too 
economical. 

At  this  answer  the  whole  audience  laughs.  M.  Mau- 
croy is  not  exactly  famous  for  cheap  bargains.  Even 
some  of  the  jurymen  can  hardly  control  their  laughter. 


336     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

P. — Never  mind  your  reflections  on  that  subject. 
TeU  us  only  what  you  know  about  the  peculiarities  of 
this  gun. 

WITNESS. — Well,  thanks  to  a  peculiar  arrangement 
of  the  cartridges,  and  thanks,  also,  to  the  special  na- 
ture of  the  fulminating  material,  the  barrels  hardly  ever 
become  foul. 

A. — (Eagerly.)  You  are  mistaken,  sir.  I  have  my- 
self cleaned  my  gun  frequently ;  and  I  have,  just  on  the 
contrary,  found  the  barrels  extremely  foul. 

WITNESS. — Because  you  had  fired  too  often.  But  I 
mean  to  say  that  you  can  use  up  two  or  three  cart- 
ridges without  a  trace  being  left  in  the  barrels. 

A. — I  deny  that  positively. 

P. — (To  witness.)  And  if  a  dozen  cartridges  were 
burnt? 

WITNESS. — Oh,  then,  the  barrels  would  be  very  foul. 

P. — Examine  the  barrels,  and  tell  us  what  you  see. 

WITNESS. — (After  a  minute  examination.)  I  de- 
clare that  two  cartridges  cannot  have  been  used  since 
the  gun  was  cleaned. 

P. — (To  the  accused.)  Well,  what  becomes  of  that 
dozen  cartridges  which  you  have  used  up  to  light  your 
cigars,  and  which  had  blackened  your  hands  so  badly? 

M.  MAGLOIRE. — The  question  is  too  serious  to  be 
left  entirely  in  the  hands  of  a  single  witness. 

THE  PROSECUTING  ATTORNEY. — We  only  desire  the 
truth.  It  is  easy  to  make  an  experimant. 

WITNESS. — Oh,  certainly ! 

P. — Let  it  be  done. 

Witness  puts  a  cartridge  into  each  barrel,  and  goes 
to  the  window  to  explode  them.  The  sudden  explo- 
sion is  followed  by  the  screams  of  several  ladies. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     537 

WITNESS. —  (Returning,  and  showing  that  the  bar- 
rels are  no  more  foul  than  they  were  before.)  Well, 
you  see  I  was  right. 

P. —  (To  the  accused.)  You  see  this  circumstance 
on  which  you  relied  so  securely,  so.  far  from  helping 
you,  only  proves  that  your  explanation  of  the  blackened 
state  of  your  hands  was  a  falsehood. 

Upon  the  president's  order,  witness  is  taken  out,  and 
the  examination  of  the  accused  is  continued. 

P. — What  were  your  relations  with  Count 
Claudieuse? 

A. — We  had  no  intercourse  with  each  other. 

P. — But  it  was  known  all  over  the  country  that  you 
hated  him  ? 

A. — That  is  a  mistake.  I  declare,  upon  my  honor, 
that  I  always  looked  upon  him  as  the  best  and  most 
honorable  of  men. 

P. — There,  at  least,  you  agree  with  all  who  knew 
him.  Still  you  are  at  law  with  him? 

A. — I  have  inherited  that  suit  from  my  uncle,  to- 
gether with  his  fortune.  I  carried  it  on,  but  very 
quietly.  I  asked  for  nothing  better  than  a  compromise. 

P. — And,  when  Count  Claudieuse  refused,  vou  were 
incensed? 

A.— No. 

P. — You  were  so  irritated  against  him,  that  you  once 
actually  aimed  your  gun  at  him.  At  another  time  you 
said,  "  He  will  not  leave  me  alone  till  I  put  a  ball  into 
him."  Do  not  deny!  You  will  hear  what  the  wit- 
nesses say. 

Thereupon,  the  accused  resumes  his  place.  He  looks 
as  confident  as  ever,  and  carries  his  head  high.  He  has 
entirely  overcome  any  feeling  of  discouragement,  and 


538     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

converses  with  his  counsel  in  the  most  composed 
manner. 

There  can  be  no  doubt,  that,  at  this  stage  of  the  pro- 
ceedings, public  opinion  is  on  his  side.  He  has  won 
the  good-will  even  of  those  who  came  there  strongly 
prejudiced.  No  one  can  help  being  impressed  by  his 
proud  but  mournful  expression  of  face ;  and  all  are 
touched  by  the  extreme  simplicity  of  his  answers. 

Although  the  discussion  about  the  gun  has  not 
turned  out  to  his  advantage,  it  does  not  seem  to  have 
injured  him.  People  are  eagerly  discussing  the  ques- 
tion of  the  fouling  of  guns.  A  number  of  incredulous 
persons,  whom  the  experiment  has  not  convinced,  main- 
tain that  M.  Maucroy  has  been  too  rash  in  his  state- 
ments. Other  express  surprise  at  the  reserve  shown  by 
counsel, — less  by  that  of  M.  Folgat,  who  is  unknown 
here,  than  by  that  of  M.  Magloire,  who  usually  allows 
no  opportunity  to  escape,  but  is  sure  to  profit  by  the 
smallest  incident. 

The  proceedings  are  not  exactly  suspended ;  but  there 
is  a  pause,  whilst  the  ushers  cover  the  articles  on  the 
table  once  more  with  red  cloth,  and,  after  several  com- 
ings and  goings,  roll  a  large  arm-chair  in  front  of  the 
judge's  seat. 

At  last  one  of  the  ushers  comes  up  to  the  president, 
and  whispers  something  into  his  ear. 

The  president  only  nods  his  head. 

When  the  usher  has  left  the  room,  M.  Domini  says, — 

"  We  shall  now  proceed  to  hear  the  witnesses,  and 
we  propose  to  begin  with  Count  Claudieuse.  Although 
seriously  indisposed,  he  has  preferred  to  appear  in 
court." 

At  these  words  Dr.  Seignebos  is  seen  to  start  up,  as 
if  he  wished  to  address  the  court;  but  one  of  his 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     539 

friends,  sitting  by  him,  pulls  him  down  by  his  coat. 
M.  Folgat  makes  a  sign  to  him,  and  he  sits  down  again. 
P. — Sheriff,  bring  in  Count  Claudieuse. 

[Examination  of  Witnesses.] 

The  small  door  through  which  the  armorer  Mau- 
croy  had  been  admitted  opens  once  more,  and  Count 
Claudieuse  enters,  supported  and  almost  carried  by  his 
man-servant. 

He  is  greeted  by  a  murmur  of  sympathetic  pity.  He 
is  frightfully  thin ;  and  his  features  look  as  haggard  as 
if  he  were  about  to  give  up  the  ghost.  The  whole  vi- 
tality of  his  system  seems  to  have  centred  in  his  eyes, 
which  shine  with  extraordinary  brilliancy. 

He  takes  the  oath  in  an  almost  inaudible  voice. 

But  the  silence  is  so  deep,  that  when  the  president 
asks  him  the  usual  question,  "  Do  you  swear  to  tell 
the  whole  truth  ? "  and  he  answers,  "  I  swear,"  the 
words  are  distinctly  heard  all  over  the  court-room. 

P. —  (Very  kindly.)  We  are  very  much  obliged  to 
you,  sir,  for  the  effort  which  you  have  made.  That 
chair  has  been  brought  in  for  you :  please  sit  down. 

COUNT  CLAUDIEUSE. — I  thank  you,  sir;  but  I  am 
strong  enough  to  stand.  , 

P. — Please  tell  us,  then,  what  you  know  of  the  at- 
tempt made  on  your  life. 

C.  C. — It  might  have  been  eleven  o'clock :  I  had  gone 
to  bed  a  little  while  before,  and  blown  out  my  light.  I 
was  in  that  half  state  which  is  neither  waking  nor 
sleeping,  when  I  saw  my  room  lighted  up  by  a  dazzling 
glare.  I  saw  it  was  fire.  I  jumped  out  of  bed,  and, 
only  lightly  dressed,  rushed  down  the  stairs.  I  found 
some  difficulty  in  opening  the  outer  door,  which  I  had 
locked  myself.  At  last  I  succeeded.  But  I  had  no 


540     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

sooner  put  my  foot  outside  than  I  felt  a  terrible  pain 
in  my  right  side,  and  at  the  same  time  I  heard  an  ex- 
plosion of  fire-arms.  Instinctively,  I  rushed  towards 
the  place  from  which  the  shot  seemed  to  have  been 
fired ;  but,  before  I  had  taken  three  steps,  I  was  struck 
once  more  in  my  shoulder,  and  fell  down  unconscious. 

P. — How  long  a  time  was  there  between  the  first  and 
the  second  shot? 

C.  C. — Almost  three  or  four  seconds. 

P. — Was  that  time  enough  to  distinguish  the 
murderer? 

C.  C. — Yes ;  and  I  saw  him  run  from  behind  a  wood- 
pile, where  he  had  been  lying  in  ambush,  and  escape 
into  the  country. 

P. — You  can  tell  us,  no  doubt,  how  he  was  dressed? 

C.  C. — Certainly.  He  had  on  a  pair  of  light  gray 
trousers,  a  dark  coat,  and  a  large  straw  hat. 

At  a  sign  from  the  president,  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
most  profound  silence,  the  ushers  remove  the  red  cloth 
from  the  table. 

P. —  (Pointing  at  the  clothes  of  the  accused.)  Does 
the  costume  which  you  describe  correspond  with  those 
clothes  ? 

C.  C. — Of  course ;  for  they  are  the  same. 

P. — Then  you  must  have  recognized  the  murderer. 

C.  C. — The  fire  was  so  large  at  that  time,  that  it  was 
as  bright  as  daylight.  I  recognized  M.  Jacques  de 
Boiscoran. 

There  was,  probably,  in  the  whole  vast  audience  as- 
sembled under  that  roof,  not  a  heart  that  was  not 
seized  with  unspeakable  anguish  when  these  crushing 
words  were  uttered. 

We  were  so  fully  prepared  for  them,  that  we  could 
watch  the  accused  closely. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     541 

Not  a  muscle  in  his  face  seemed  to  move.  His  coun- 
sel showed  as  little  any  signs  of  surprise  or  emotion. 

Like  ourselves,  the  president  also,  and  the  prose- 
cuting attorney,  had  been  watching  the  accused  and 
his  counsel.  Did  they  expect  a  protest,  an  answer,  any 
thing  at  all?  Perhaps  they  did. 

But,  as  nothing  came,  the  president  continued,  turn- 
ing to  witness, — 

P. — Your  declaration  is  a  very  serious  one,  sir. 

C.  C. — I  know  its  weight. 

P. — It  is  entirely  different  from  your  first  deposition 
made  before  the  investigating  magistrate. 

C.  C.— It  is. 

P. — When  you  were  examined  a  few  hours  after  the 
crime,  you  declared  that  you  had  not  recognized  the 
murderer.  More  than  that,  when  M.  de  Boiscoran's 
name  was  mentioned,  you  seemed  to  be  indignant  at 
such  a  suspicion,  and  almost  became  surety  yourself 
for  his  innocence. 

C.  C. — That  was  contrary  to  truth.  I  felt  a  very 
natural  sense  of  commiseration,  and  tried  to  save  a  man 
who  belonged  to  a  highly  esteemed  family  from  dis- 
graceful punishment. 

P.— But  now? 

C.  C. — Now  I  see  that  I  was  wrong,  and  that  the  law 
ought  to  have  its  course.  And  this  is  my  reason  for 
coming  here, — although  afflicted  by  a  disease  which 
never  spares,  and  on  the  point  of  appearing  before  God, 
— in  order  to  tell  you  M.  de  Boiscoran  is  guilty.  I 
recognized  him. 

P. —  (To  the  accused.)  Do  you  hear? 

The  accused  rises  and  says, — 

A. — By  all  that  is  dear  and  sacred  to  me  in  the 
world,  I  swear  that  I  am  innocent.  Count  Claudieuse 


542     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

says  he  is  about  to  appear  before  God :  I  appeal  to  the 
justice  of  God. 

Sobs  well-nigh  drown  the  voice  of  the  accused.  The 
Marchioness  de  Boiscoran  is  overcome  by  a  nervous  at- 
tack. She  is  carried  out  stiff  and  inanimate;  and  Dr. 
Seignebos  and  Miss  Chandore  hasten  after  her. 

A. —  (To  Count  Claudieuse.)  You  have  killed  my 
mother ! 

Certainly,  all  who  had  hoped  for  scenes  of  thrilling 
interest  were  not  disappointed.  Everybody  looks  over- 
come with  excitement.  Tears  appear  in  the  eyes  of 
almost  all  the  ladies. 

And  yet  those  who  watch  the  glances  which  are  ex- 
changed between  M.  de  Boiscoran  and  Count  Claudi- 
euse cannot  help  asking  themselves,  if  there  is  not 
something  else  between  these  two  men,  besides  what 
the  trial  has  made  known.  We  cannot  explain  to  our- 
selves these  singular  answers  given  to  the  president's 
questions,  nor  does  any  one  understand  the  silence  ob- 
served by  M.  de  Boiscoran's  counsel.  Do  they  abandon 
their  client?  No;  for  we  see  them  go  up  to  him,  shake 
hands  with  him,  and  lavish  upon  him  every  sign  of 
friendly  consolation  and  encouragement. 

We  may  even  be  permitted  to  say,  that,  to  all  ap- 
pearances, the  president  himself  and  the  prosecuting  at- 
torney were,  for  a  moment,  perfectly  overcome  with 
surprise.  At  all  events,  we  thought  so  at  the  moment. 

But  the  president  continues, — 

P. — I  have  but  just  been  asking  the  accused,  count, 
whether  there  was  any  ground  of  enmity  between  you. 

C.  C. — (In  a  steadily  declining  voice.)  I  know  no 
other  ground  except  our  lawsuit  about  a  little  stream 
of  water. 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     543 

P. — Has  not  the  accused  once  threatened  to  fire  at 
you? 

C.  C. — Yes;  but  I  did  not  think  he  was  in  earnest, 
and  I  never  resented  the  matter. 

P. — Do  you  persist  in  your  declaration  ? 

C.  C. — I  do.  And  once  more,  upon  my  oath,  I  de- 
clare solemnly  that  I  recognized,  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  prevent  any  possible  mistake,  M.  Jacques  Boiscoran. 

It  was  evidently  time  that  Count  Claudieuse  should 
end  his  evidence.  He  begins  to  totter;  his  eyes  close; 
his  head  rolls  from  side  to  side ;  and  two  ushers  have 
to  come  to  his  assistance  to  enable  him,  with  the  help  of 
his  own  servant,  to  leave  the  room. 

Is  the  Countess  Claudieuse  to  be  called  next  ? 

It  was  thought  so ;  but  it  was  not  so.  The  countess 
being  kept  by  the  bedside  of  one  of  her  daughters,  who 
is  most  dangerously  ill,  will  not  be  called  at  all;  and 
the  clerk  of  the  court  is  ordered  to  read  her  deposition. 

Although  her  description  of  the  terrible  event  is 
very  graphic,  it  contains  no  new  facts,  and  will  remain 
without  influence  on  the  proceedings. 

The  next  witness  is  Ribot. 

This  is  a  fine  handsome  countryman,  a  regular  vil- 
lage cock,  with  a  pink-and-blue  cravat  around  his  neck, 
and  a  huge  gold  chain  dangling  from  his  watch-pocket. 
He  seems  to  be  very  proud  of  his  appearance,  and 
looks  around  with  an  air  of  the  most  perfect  self- 
satisfaction. 

In  the  same  way  he  relates  his  meeting  with  the  ac- 
cused in  a  tone  of  great  importance.  He  knows  every 
thing  and  explains  every  thing.  With  a  little  encour- 
agement he  would,  no  doubt,  declare  that  the  accused 
had  confided  to  him  all  his  plans  of  incendiarism  and 


544     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

murder.  His  answers  are  almost  all  received  with 
great  hilarity,  which  bring  down  upon  the  audience 
another  and  very  severe  reprimand  from  the  president. 

The  witness  Gaudry,  who  succeeds  him,  is  a  small, 
wretched-looking  man,  with  a  false  and  timid  eye,  who 
exhausts  himself  in  bows  and  scrapes.  Quite  different 
from  Ribot,  he  seems  to  have  forgotten  every  thing. 
It  is  evident  he  is  afraid  of  committing  himself.  He 
praises  the  count;  but  he  does  not  speak  the  less  well 
of  M.  de  Boiscoran.  He  assures  the  court  of  his  pro- 
found respect  for  them  all, — for  the  ladies  and  gentle- 
men present,  for  everybody,  in  fine. 

The  woman  Courtois,  who  comes  next,  evidently 
wishes  she  were  a  thousand  miles  away.  The  presi- 
dent has  to  make  the  very  greatest  efforts  to  obtain, 
word  by  word,  her  evidence,  which,  after  all,  amounts 
to  next  to  nothing. 

Then  follow  two  farmers  from  Brechy,  who  have 
been  present  at  that  violent  altercation  which  ended  in 
M.  de  Boiscoran's  aiming  with  his  gun  at  Count 
Claudieuse. 

Their  account,  interrupted  by  numberless  parenthe- 
ses, is  very  obscure.  One  of  the  counsel  of  the  defend- 
ant requests  them  to  be  more  explicit;  and  thereupon 
they  become  utterly  unintelligible.  Besides,  they  con- 
tradict each  other.  One  has  looked  upon  the  act  of  the 
accused  as  a  mere  jest :  the  other  has  looked  upon  it  so 
seriously  as  to  throw  himself  between  the  two  men,  in 
order  to  prevent  M.  de  Boiscoran  from  killing  his  ad- 
versary then  and  there. 

Once  more  the  accused  protests,  energetically,  he 
never  hated  Count  Claudieuse:  there  was  no  reason 
why  he  should  hate  him. 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF  HIS   LIFE     545 

The  obstinate  peasant  insists  upon  it  that  a  lawsuit 
is  always  a  sufficient  reason  for  hating  a  man.  And 
thereupon  he  undertakes  to  explain  the  lawsuit,  and 
how  Count  Claudieuse,  by  stopping  the  water  of  the 
Seille,  overflowed  M.  de  Boiscoran's  meadows. 

The  president  at  last  stops  the  discussion,  and  orders 
another  witness  to  be  brought  in. 

This  man  swears  he  has  heard  M.  de  Boiscoran  say, 
that,  sooner  or  later,  he  would  put  a  ball  into  Count 
Claudieuse.  He  adds,  that  the  accused  is  a  terrible 
man,  who  threatened  to  shoot  people  upon  the  slightest 
provocation.  And,  to  support  his  evidence,  he  states 
that  once  before,  to  the  knowledge  of  the  whole  coun- 
try, M.  de  Boiscoran  has  fired  at  a  man. 

The  accused  undertakes  to  explain  this.  A  scamp, 
who  he  thinks  was  no  one  else  but  the  witness  on  the 
stand,  came  every  night  and  stole  his  tenants'  fruit  and 
vegetables.  One  night  he  kept  watch,  and  gave  him  a 
load  of  salt.  He  does  not  know  whether  he  hit  him. 
At  all  events,  the  thief  never  complained,  and  thus  was 
never  found  out. 

The  next  witness  is  a  constable  from  Brechy.  He 
deposes  that  once  Count  Claudieuse,  by  stopping  up 
the  waters  of  the  little  stream,  the  Seille,  had  caused 
M.  de  Boiscoran  a  loss  of  twenty  thousand  weight  of 
first-rate  hay.  He  confesses  that  such  a  bad  neigh- 
bor would  certainly  have  exasperated  him. 

The  prosecuting  attorney  does  not  deny  the  fact,  but 
adds,  that  Count  Claudieuse  offered  to  pay  damages. 
M.  de  Boiscoran  had  refused  with  insulting 
haughtiness. 

The  accused  replies,  that  he  had  refused  upon  the 
advice  of  his  lawyer,  but  that  he  had  not  used  insulting 
words. 


546     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

Next  appeared  the  witnesses  summoned  by  the 
defence. 

The  first  is  the  excellent  priest  from  Brechy.  He 
confirms  the  statement  of  the  accused.  He  was  dining-, 
the  evening  of  the  crime,  at  the  house  of  M.  de  Besson ; 
his  servant  had  come  for  him ;  and  the  parsonage  was 
deserted.  He  states  that  he  had  really  arranged  with 
M.  de  Boiscoran  that  the  latter  should  come  some 
evening  of  that  week  to  fulfil  the  religious  duties  which 
the  church  requires  before  it  allows  a  marriage  to  be 
consecrated.  He  has  known  Jacques  de  Boiscoran 
from  a  child,  and  knows  no  better  and  no  more  hon- 
orable man.  In  his  opinion,  that  hatred,  of  which  so 
much  has  been  said,  never  had  any  existence.  He  can- 
not believe,  and  does  not  believe,  that  the  accused  is 
guilty. 

The  second  witness  is  the  priest  of  an  adjoining  par- 
ish. He  states,  that,  between  nine  and  ten  o'clock,  he 
was  on  the  road,  near  the  Marshalls'  Cross-roads. 
The  night  was  quite  dark.  He  is  of  the  same  size  as 
the  priest  at  Brechy ;  and  the  little  girl  might  very  well 
have  taken  him  for  the  latter,  thus  misleading  M.  de 
Boiscoran. 

Three  other  witnesses  are  introduced ;  and  then,  as 
neither  the  accused  nor  his  counsel  have  any  thing  to 
add,  the  prosecuting  attorney  begins  his  speech. 

[The  Charge.] 

M.  Gransiere's  eloquence  is  so  widely  known,  and  so 
justly  appreciated,  that  we  need  not  refer  to  it  here. 
We  will  only  say  that  he  surpassed  himself  in  this 
charge,  which,  for  more  than  an  hour,  held  the  large 
assembly  in  anxious  and  breathless  suspense,  and 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     547 

caused  all  hearts  to  vibrate  with  the  most  intense  ex- 
citement. 

He  commences  with  a  description  of  Valpinson, 
"  this  poetic  and  charming  residence,  where  the  noble 
old  trees  of  Rochepommier  are  mirrored  in  the  crystal 
waves  of  the  Seille. 

"  There,"  he  went  on  to  say, — "  there  lived  the  Count 
and  the  Countess  Claudieuse, — he  one  of  those  noble- 
men of  a  past  age  who  worshipped  honor,  and  were  de- 
voted to  duty;  she  one  of  those  women  who  are  the 
glory  of  their  sex,  and  the  perfect  model  of  all  domes- 
tic virtues. 

"  Heaven  had  blessed  their  union,  and  given  them 
two  children,  to  whom  they  were  tenderly  attached. 
Fortune  smiled  upon  their  wise  efforts.  Esteemed  by 
all,  cherished,  and  revered,  they  lived  happy,  and  might 
have  counted  upon  long  years  of  prosperity. 

"  But  no.    Hate  was  hovering  over  them. 

"  One  evening,  a  fatal  glare  arouses  the  count.  He 
rushes  out;  he  hears  the  report  of  a  gun.  He  hears  it 
a  second  time,  and  he  sinks  down,  bathed  in  his  blood. 
The  countess  also  is  alarmed  by  the  explosion,  and 
hastens  to  the  spot :  she  stumbles ;  she  sees  the  lifeless 
body  of  her  husband,  and  sinks  unconscious  to  the 
ground. 

"  Are  the  children  also  to  perish  ?  No.  Providence 
watches.  A  flash  of  intelligence  pierces  the  night  of  an 
insane  man,  who  rushes  through  the  flames,  and 
snatches  the  children  from  the  fire  that  was  already 
threatening  their  couch. 

"  The  lives  are  saved ;  but  the  fire  continues  its  de- 
structive march. 

"  At  the  sound  of  the  terrible  fire-bell,  all  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  neighboring  villages  hurry  to  the  spot. 


548     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

But  there  is  no  one  to  direct  their  efforts ;  there  are  no 
engines ;  and  they  can  do  nothing. 

"  But  all  of  a  sudden  a  distant  rumbling  sound  re- 
vives hope  in  their  hearts.  They  know  the  fire-engines 
are  coming.  They  come;  they  reach  the  spot;  and 
whatever  men  can  do  is  done  at  once. 

"  But  great  God !  What  mean  those  cries  of  horror 
which  suddenly  rise  on  all  sides?  The  roof  of  the 
house  is  falling,  and  buries  under  its  ruins  two  men, 
the  most  zealous. and  most  courageous  of  all  the  zeal- 
ous and  courageous  men, — Bolton  the  drummer,  who 
but  just  now  summoned  his  neighbors  to  come  to  the 
rescue,  and  Guillebault,  a  father  with  five  children. 

"  High  above  the  crash  and  the  hissing  of  flames  rise 
their  heart-rending  cries.  They  call  for  help.  Will 
they  be  allowed  to  perish?  A  gendarme  rushes  for- 
ward, and  with  him  a  farmer  from  Brechy.  But  their 
heroism  is  useless:  the  monster  keeps  its  prey.  The 
two  men  also  are  apparently  doomed ;  and  only  by  un- 
heard-of efforts,  and  at  great  peril  of  life,  can  they  be 
rescued  from  the  furnace.  But  they  are  so  grievously 
wounded,  that  they  will  remain  infirm  for  the  rest  of 
their  lives,  compelled  to  appeal  to  public  charity  for 
their  subsistence." 

Then  the  prosecuting  attorney  proceeds  to  paint  the 
whole  of  the  disaster  at  Valpinson  in  the  sombrest  col- 
ors, and  with  all  the  resources  of  his  well-known  elo- 
quence. He  describes  the  Countess  Claudieuse  as  she 
kneels  by  the  side  of  her  dying  husband,  while  the 
crowd  is  eagerly  pressing  around  the  wounded  man 
and  struggling  with  the  flames  for  the  charred  remains 
of  the  unfortunate  firemen.  With  increasing  vehe- 
mence, he  says  next, — 

"  And  during  all  this  time  what  becomes  of  the 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     549 

author  of  these  fearful  misdeeds  ?  When  his  hatred  is 
gratified,  he  flees  through  the  wood,  and  returns  to  his 
home.  Remorse,  there  is  none.  As  soon  as  he  reaches 
the  house,  he  eats,  drinks,  smokes  his  cigar.  His  posi- 
tion in  the  country  is  such,  and  the  precautionary  meas- 
ures he  has  taken  appear  to  him  so  well  chosen,  that  he 
thinks  he  is  above  suspicion.  He  is  calm.  He  feels  so 
perfectly  safe,  that  he  neglects  the  commonest  precau- 
tions, and  does  not  even  take  the  trouble  of  pouring 
out  the  water  in  which  he  has  washed  his  hands,  black- 
ened as  they  are  by  the  fire  he  has  just  kindled. 

"  He  forgets  that  Providence  whose  torch  on  great 
occasions  illumines  and  guides  human  justice. 

"  And  how,  indeed,  could  the  law  ever  have  expected 
to  find  the  guilty  man  in  one  of  the  most  magnificent 
chateaux  of  the  country,  for  the  author,  but  for  a  di- 
rect intervention  of  Providence? 

"  For  the  incendiary,  the  assassin,  was  actually  there, 
at  the  Chateau  Boiscoran. 

"  And  let  no  one  come  and  tell  us  that  the  past  life 
of  Jacques  de  Boiscoran  is  such  as  to  protect  him 
against  the  formidable  charges  that  are  brought  against 
him.  We  know  his  past  life. 

"  A  perfect  model  of  those  idle  young  men  who  spend 
in  riotous  living  a  fortune  painfully  amassed  by  their 
fathers,  Jacques  de  Boiscoran  had  not  even  a  profes- 
sion. Useless  to  society,  a  burden  to  himself,  he  passed 
through  life  like  a  ship  without  rudder  and  without 
compass,  indulging  in  all  kinds  of  unhealthy  fashions  in 
order  to  spend  the  hours  that  were  weighing  heavily 
upon  him. 

"  And  yet  he  was  ambitious ;  but  his  ambition  lay  in 
the  direction  of  those  dangerous  and  wicked  intrigues 
which  inevitably  lead  men  to  crime. 


550     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

"  Hence  we  see  him  mixed  up  with  all  those  sterile 
and  wanton  party  movements  which  discredit  our  days, 
uttering  over  and  over  again  hollow  phrases  in  con- 
demnation of  all  that  is  noble  and  sacred,  appealing  to 
the  most  execrable  passions  of  the  multitude  " — 

M.  MAGLOIRE. — If  this  is  a  political  affair,  we  ought 
to  be  informed  beforehand. 

ATTORNEY-GENERAL. — There  is  no  question  of  poli- 
tics here.  We  speak  of  the  life  of  a  man  who  has  been 
an  apostle  of  strife. 

M.  MAGLOIRE. — Does  the  attorney-general  fancy  he 
is  preaching  peace? 

PRESIDENT. — I  request  counsel  for  the  defence  not 
to  interrupt. 

ATTORNEY-GENERAL. — And  it  is  in  this  ambition  of 
the  accused  that  we  must  look  for  a  key  to  that  terrible 
hatred  which  has  led  him  to  commit  such  crimes.  That 
lawsuit  about  a  stream  of  water  is  a  matter  of  compara- 
tively little  importance.  But  Jacques  de  Boiscoran  was 
preparing  to  become  a  candidate  for  election. 

A. — I  never  dreamed  of  it. 

ATTORNEY-GENERAL. —  (Not  noticing  the  interrup- 
tion.) He  did  not  say  so ;  but  his  friends  said  it  for  him, 
and  went  about  everywhere,  repeating  that  by  his  posi- 
tion, his  wealth,  and  his  opinions,  he  was  the  man  best 
worthy  of  the  votes  of  Republicans.  And  he  would 
have  had  an  excellent  chance,  if  there  had  not  stood 
between  him  and  the  object  of  his  desires  Count 
Claudieuse,  who  had  already  more  than  once  suc- 
ceeded in  defeating  similar  plots. 

M.  MAGLOIRE. — (Warmly.)  Do  you  refer  to  me? 

ATTORNEY-GENERAL. — I  allude  to  no  one. 

M.  MAGLOIRE. — You  might  just  as  well  say  at  once, 
that  my  friends  as  well  as  myself  are  all  M.  de  Bois- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     551 

coran's  accomplices ;  and  that  we  have  employed  him 
to  rid  us  of  a  formidable  adversary. 

ATTORNEY-GENERAL. — (Continues.)  Gentlemen,  this 
is  the  real  motive  of  the  crime.  Hence  that  hatred 
which  the  accused  soon  is  unable  to  conceal  any  longer, 
which  overflows  in  invectives,  which  breaks  forth  in 
threats  of  death,  and  which  actually  carries  him  so  far 
that  he  points  his  gun  at  Count  Claudieuse. 

The  attorney-general  next  passes  on  to  examine  the 
charges,  which,  he  declares,  are  overwhelming  and  ir- 
refutable. Then  he  goes  on, — 

"  But  what  need  is  there  of  such  questions  after  the 
crushing  evidence  of  Count  Claudieuse?  You  have 
heard  it, — on  the  point  of  appearing  before  God ! 

"  His  first  impulse  was  to  follow  the  generous  na- 
ture of  his  heart,  and  to  pardon  the  man  who  had  at- 
tempted his  life.  He  desired  to  save  him ;  but,  as  he 
felt  death  come  nearer  and  nearer,  he  saw  that  he  had 
no  right  to  shield  a  criminal  from  the  sword  of  justice : 
he  remembered  that  there  were  other  victims  beside 
himself. 

"  And  then,  rising  from  his  bed  of  agony,  he  dragged 
himself  here  into  court,  in  order  to  tell  you,  *  That  is 
the  man !  By  the  light  of  the  fire  which  he  had  kindled, 
I  saw  him  and  recognized  him.  He  is  the  man ! ' 

"  And  could  you  hesitate  after  such  evidence?  No! 
I  can  not  and  will  not  believe  it.  After  such  crimes, 
society  expects  that  justice  should  be  done, — justice  in 
the  name  of  Count  Claudieuse  on  his  deathbed, — justice 
in  the  name  of  the  dead, — justice  in  the  name  of  Bol- 
ton's  mother,  and  of  Guillebault's  widow  and  her  five 
children." 

A  murmur  of  approbation  accompanied  the  last 
words  of  M.  Gransiere,  and  continued  for  some  time 


552     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

after  he  had  concluded.    There  is  not  a  woman  in  the 
whole  assembly  who  does  not  shed  tears. 
P. — The  counsel  for  the  defence. 

[Pleading.] 

As  M.  Magloire  had  so  far  alone  taken  an  active 
part  in  the  defence,  it  was  generally  believed  that  he 
would  speak.  But  it  was  not  so.  M.  Folgat  rises. 

Our  court-house  here  in  Sauveterre  has  at  various 
times  reechoed  the  words  of  almost  all  our  great  mas- 
ters of  forensic  eloquence.  We  have  heard  Berryer, 
Dufaure,  Jules  Favre,  and  others ;  but,  even  after  these 
illustrious  orators,  M.  Folgat  still  succeeds  in  astonish- 
ing and  moving  us  deeply. 

We  can,  of  course,  report  here  only  a  few  of  his 
phrases ;  and  we  must  utterly  abandon  all  hope  of  giv- 
ing an  idea  of  his  proud  and  disdainful  attitude,  his  ad- 
mirable manner,  full  of  authority,  and  especially  of  his 
full,  rich  voice,  which  found  its  way  into  every  heart. 

"  To  defend  certain  men  against  certain  charges," 
he  began,  "  would  be  to  insult  them.  They  cannot  be 
touched.  To  the  portrait  drawn  by  the  prosecuting  at- 
torney, I  shall  simply  oppose  the  answer  given  by  the 
venerable  priest  of  Brechy.  What  did  he  tell  you  ?  M. 
de  Boiscoran  is  the  best  and  most  honorable  of  men. 
There  is  the  truth ;  they  wish  to  make  him  out  a  politi- 
cal intriguant.  He  had,  it  is  true,  a  desire  to  be  use- 
ful to  his  country.  But,  while  others  debated,  he  acted. 
The  Sauveterre  Volunteers  will  tell  you  to  what  pas- 
sions he  appealed  before  the  enemy,  and  by  what  in- 
trigues he  won  the  cross  which  Chausy  himself 
fastened  to  his  breast.  He  wanted  power,  you  say. 
No:  he  wished  for  happiness.  You  speak  of  a  letter 
written  by  him,  the  evening  of  the  crime,  to  his  be- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     553 

trothed.  I  challenge  you  to  read  it.  It  covers  four 
pages:  before  you  have  read  two,  you  will  be  forced 
to  abandon  the  case." 

Then  the  young  advocate  repeats  the  evidence  given 
by  the  accused;  and  really,  under  the  influence  of  his 
eloquence,  the  charges  seem  to  fall  to  the  ground,  and 
to  be  utterly  annihilated. 

"  And  now,"  he  went  on,  "  what  other  evidence  re- 
mains there  ?  The  evidence  given  by  Count  Claudieuse. 
It  is  crushing,  you  say.  I  say  it  is  singular.  What! 
here  is  a  witness  who  sees  his  last  hour  drawing  nigh, 
and  who  yet  waits  for  the  last  minute  of  his  life  before 
he  speaks.  And  you  think  that  is  natural !  You  pre- 
tend that  it  was  generosity  which  made  him  keep  silent. 
I,  I  ask  you  how  the  most  cruel  enemy  could  have  acted 
more  atrociously? 

"  '  Never  was  a  case  clearer,'  says  the  prosecution. 
On  the  contrary,  I  maintain  that  never  was  a  case  more 
obscure ;  and  that,  so  far  from  fathoming  the  secret  of 
the  whole  affair,  the  prosecution  has  not  found  out  the 
first  word  of  it." 

M.  Folgat  takes  his  seat,  and  the  sheriff's  officers 
have  to  interfere  to  prevent  applause  from  breaking 
out.  If  the  vote  had  been  taken  at  that  moment,  M.  de 
Boiscoran  would  have  been  acquitted. 

But  the  proceedings  are  suspended  for  fifteen  min- 
utes ;  and  in  the  meantime  the  lamps  are  lit,  for  night 
begins  to  fall. 

When  the  president  resumes  his  chair,  the  attorney- 
general  claims  his  right  to  speak. 

"  I  shall  not  reply  as  I  had  at  first  proposed.  Count 
Claudieuse  is  about  to  pay  with  his  life  for  the  effort 
which  he  has  made  to  place  his  evidence  before  you. 
He  could  not  even  be  carried  home.  He  is  perhaps  at 


554     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

this  very  moment  drawing  his  last  breath  upon  earth  in 
the  adjoining  room." 

The  counsel  for  the  defence  do  not  desire  to  address 
the  jury;  and,  as  the  accused  also  declares  that  he  has 
nothing  more  to  say,  the  president  sums  up,  and  the 
jurymen  withdraw  to  their  room  to  deliberate. 

The  heat  is  overwhelming,  the  restraint  almost  un- 
bearable ;  and  all  faces  bear  the  marks  of  oppressive 
fatigue;  but  nobody  thinks  of  leaving  the  house.  A 
thousand  contradictory  reports  circulate  through  the 
excited  crowd.  Some  say  that  Count  Claudieuse  has 
died;  others,  on  the  contrary,  report  him  better,  and 
add  that  he  has  sent  for  the  priest  from  Brechy. 

At  last,  a  few  minutes  after  nine  o'clock,  the  jury  re- 
appears. 

Jacques  de  Boiscoran  is  declared  guilty,  and,  on  the 
score  of  extenuating  circumstances,  sentenced  to 
twenty  years'  penal  labor. 


THIRD    PART 
COCOLEU 

I. 

THUS  M.  Galpin  triumphed,  and  M.  Gransiere  had 
reason  to  be  proud  of  his  eloquence.  Jacques  de  Bois- 
coran  had  been  found  guilty. 

But  he  looked  calm,  and  even  haughty,  as  the  presi- 
dent, M.  Domini,  pronounced  the  terrible  sentence,  a 
thousand  times  braver  at  that  moment  than  the  man 
who,  facing  the  squad  of  soldiers  from,  whom  he  is  to 
receive  death,  refuses  to  have  his  eyes  bandaged,  and 
himself  gives  the  word  of  command  with  a  firm  voice. 

That  very  morning,  a  few  moments  before  the  be- 
ginning of  the  trial,  he  had  said  to  Dionysia, — 

"  I  know  what  is  in  store  for  me ;  but  I  am  innocent. 
They  shall  not  see  me  turn  pale,  nor  hear  me  ask  for 
mercy." 

And,  gathering  up  all  the  energy  of  which  the  human 
heart  is  capable,  he  had  made  a  supreme  effort  at  the 
decisive  moment,  and  kept  his  word. 

Turning  quietly  to  his  counsel  at  the  moment  when 
the  last  words  of  the  president  were  lost  among  the 
din  of  the  crowd,  he  said, — 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  the  day  would  come  when 
you  yourself  would  be  the  first  to  put  a  weapon  into 
my  hands  ?  " 

M.  Folgat  rose  promptly. 

555 


556     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

He  showed  neither  the  anger  nor  the  disappointment 
of  an  advocate  who  has  just  lost  a  cause  which  he  knew 
to  be  just. 

"  That  day  has  not  come  yet,"  he  replied.  "  Remem- 
ber your  promise.  As  long  as  there  remains  a  ray  of 
hope,  we  shall  fight.  Now  we  have  much  more  than 
mere  hope  at  this  moment.  In  less  than  a  month,  in  a 
week,  perhaps  to-morrow,  we  shall  have  our  revenge." 

The  unfortunate  man  shook  his  head. 

"  I  shall  nevertheless  have  undergone  the  disgrace  of 
a  condemnation,"  he  murmured. 

Then  taking  the  ribbon  of  the  Legion  of  Honor 
from  his  buttonhole,  he  handed  it  to  M.  Folgat, 
saying,— 

"  Keep  this  in  memory  of  me,  and  if  I  never  regain 
the  right  to  wear  it " — 

In  the  meantime,  however,  the  gendarmes,  whose 
duty  it  was  to  guard  the  prisoner,  had  risen;  and  the 
sergeant  said  to  Jacques, — 

"  We  must  go,  sir.  Come,  come !  You  need  not 
despair.  You  need  not  lose  courage.  All  is  not  over 
yet.  •  There  is  still  the  appeal  for  you,  and  then  the  pe- 
tition for  pardon,  not  to  speak  of  what  may  happen, 
and  cannot  be  foreseen." 

M.  Folgat  was  allowed  to  accompany  the  prisoner, 
and  was  getting  ready  to  do  so;  but  the  latter  said, 
with  a  pained  voice, — 

"  No,  my  friend,  please  leave  me  alone.  Others  have 
more  need  of  your  presence  than  I  have.  Dionysia,  my 
poor  father,  my  mother.  Go  to  them.  Tell  them  that 
the  horror  of  my  condemnation  lies  in  the  thought  of 
them.  May  they  forgive  me  for  the  affliction  which  I 
cause  them,  and  for  the  disgrace  of  having  me  for  their 
son,  for  her  betrothed  !  " 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     557 

Then,  pressing  the  hands  of  his  counsel,  he  added, — 

"  And  you,  my  friends,  how  shall  I  ever  express  to 
you  my  gratitude?  Ah!  if  incomparable  talents,  and 
matchless  zeal  and  ability,  had  sufficed,  I  know  I  should 
be  free.  But  instead  of  that  " —  he  pointed  at  the  little 
door  through  which  he  was  to  pass,  and  said  in  a  heart- 
rending tone, — 

"  Instead  of  that,  there  is  the  door  to  the  galleys. 
Henceforth  "— 

A  sob  cut  short  his  words.  His  strength  was  ex- 
hausted; for  if  there  are,  so  to  say,  no  limits  to  the 
power  of  endurance  of  the  spirit,  the  energy  of  the  body 
has  its  bounds.  Refusing  the  arm  which  the  sergeant 
offered  him,  he  rushed  out  of  the  room. 

M.  Magloire  was  well-nigh  beside  himself  with  grief. 

"  Ah !  why  could  we  not  save  him  ?  "  he  said  to  his 
young  colleague.  "  Let  them  come  and  speak  to  me 
again  of  the  power  of  conviction.  But  we  must  not 
stay  here :  let  us  go  1 " 

They  threw  themselves  into  the  crowd,  which  was 
slowly  dispersing,  all  palpitating  yet  with  the  excite- 
ment of  the  day. 

A  strange  reaction  was  already  beginning  to  set  in, 
— a  reaction  perfectly  illogic,  and  yet  intelligible,  and 
by  no  means  rare  under  similar  circumstances. 

Jacques  de  Boiscoran,  an  object  of  general  execra- 
tion as  long  as  he  was  only  suspected,  regained  the 
sympathy  of  all  the  moment  he  was  condemned.  It 
was  as  if  the  fatal  sentence  had  wiped  out  the  horror  of 
the  crime.  He  was  pitied ;  his  fate  was  deplored ;  and 
as  they  thought  of  his  family,  his  mother,  and  his  be- 
trothed, they  almost  cursed  the  severity  of  the  judges. 

Besides,  even  the  least  observant  among  those  pres- 
ent had  been  struck  by  the  singular  course  which  the 


558     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

proceedings  had  taken.  There  was  not  one,  probably, 
in  that  vast  assembly,  who  did  not  feel  that  there  was  a 
mysterious  and  unexplored  side  of  the  case,  which 
neither  the  prosecution  nor  the  defence  had  chosen  to 
approach.  Why  had  Cocoleu  been  mentioned  only 
once,  and  then  quite  incidentally  ?  He  was  an  idiot,  to 
be  sure;  but  it  was  nevertheless  through  his  evidence 
alone  that  suspicions  had  been  aroused  against  M.  de 
Boiscoran.  Why  had  he  not  been  summoned  either  by 
the  prosecution  or  by  the  defence  ? 

The  evidence  given  by  Count  Claudieuse,  also,  al- 
though apparently  so  conclusive  at  the  moment,  was 
now  severely  criticised. 

The  most  indulgent  said, — 

"  That  was  not  well  done.  That  was  a  trick.  Why 
did  he  not  speak  out  before?  People  do  not  wait  for 
a  man  to  be  down  before  they  strike  him." 

Others  added, — 

"  And  did  you  notice  how  M.  de  Boiscoran  and 
Count  Claudieuse  looked  at  each  other?  Did  you  hear 
what  they  said  to  each  other  ?  One  might  have  sworn 
that  there  was  something  else,  something  very  different 
from  ainere  lawsuit,  between  them." 

And  on  all  sides  people  repeated,  — 

"  At  all  events,  M.  Folgat  is  right.  The  whole  mat- 
ter is  far  from  being  cleared  up.  The  jury  was  long 
before  they  agreed.  Perhaps  M.  de  Boiscoran  would 
have  been  acquitted,  if,  at  the  last  moment,  Mr.  Gran- 
siere  had  not  announced  the  impending  death  of  Count 
Claudieuse  in  the  adjoining  room." 

M.  Magloire  and  M.  Folgat  listened  to  all  these 
remarks,  as  they  heard  them  in  the  crowd  here  and 
there,  with  great  satisfaction ;  for  in  spite  of  all  the  as- 
sertions of  magistrates  and  judges,  in  spite  of  all  the 


559 

thundering  condemnations  against  the  practice,  public 
opinion  will  find  an  echo  in  the  court-room ;  and,  more 
frequently  than  we  think,  public  opinion  does  dictate 
the  verdict  of  the  jury. 

"  And  now,"  said  M.  Magloire  to  his  young  col- 
league, "  now  we  can  be  content.  I  know  Sauveterre 
by  heart.  I  tell  you  public  opinion  is  henceforth  on 
our  side." 

By  dint  of  perseverance  they  made  their,  way,  at  last, 
out  through  the  narrow  door  of  the  court-room,  when 
one  of  the  ushers  stopped  them. 

"  They  wish  to  see  you,"  said  the  man. 

"Who?" 

"  The  family  of  the  prisoner.  Poor  people !  They 
are  all  in  there,  in  Mr.  Mechinet's  office.  M.  Dau- 
bigeon  told  me  to  keep  it  for  them.  The  Marchioness 
de  Boiscoran  also  was  carried  there  when  she  was  taken 
ill  in  the  court-room." 

He  accompanied  the  two  gentlemen,  while  telling 
them  this,  to  the  end  of  the  hall ;  then  he  opened  a  door, 
and  said, — 

"  They  are  in  there,"  and  withdrew  discreetly. 

There,  in  an  easy-chair,  with  closed  eyes,  and  half- 
open  lips,  lay  Jacques's  mother.  Her  livid  pallor  and 
her  stiff  limbs  made  her  look  like  a  dead  person ;  but, 
from  time  to  time,  spasms  shook  her  whole  body,  from 
head  to  foot.  M.  de  Chandore  stood  on  one  side,  and 
the  marquis,  her  husband,  on  the  other,  watching  her 
with  mournful  eyes  and  in  perfect  silence.  They  had 
been  thunderstruck;  and,  from  the  moment  when  the 
fatal  sentence  fell  upon  their  ears,  neither  of  them  had 
uttered  a  word. 

Dionysia  alone  seemed  to  have  preserved  the  faculty 
of  reasoning  and  moving.  But  her  face  was  deep  pur- 


560     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

pie;  her  dry  eyes  shone  with  a  painful  light;  and  her 
body  shook  as  with  fever.  As  soon  as  the  two  advo- 
cates appeared,  she  cried, — 

"  And  you  call  this  human  justice?  " 

And,  as  they  were  silent,  she  added, — 

"  Here  is  Jacques  condemned  to  penal  labor ;  that  is 
to  say,  he  is  judicially  dishonored,  lost,  disgraced,  for- 
ever cut  off  from  human  society.  He  is  innocent ;  but 
that  does  not  matter.  His  best  friends  will  know  him 
no  longer :  no  hand  will  touch  his  hand  hereafter ;  and 
even  those  who  were  most  proud  of  his  affection  will 
pretend  to  have  forgotten  his  name." 

"  I  understand  your  grief  but  too  well,  madam,"  said 
M.  Magloire. 

"  My  grief  is  not  as  great  as  my  indignation,"  she 
broke  in.  "  Jacques  must  be  avenged,  and  he  shall  be 
avenged !  I  am  only  twenty,  and  he  is  not  thirty  yet : 
there  is  a  whole  life  before  us  which  we  can  devote  to 
the  work  of  his  rehabilitation ;  for  I  do  not  mean  to 
abandon  him.  I !  His  undeserved  misfortunes  make 
him  a  thousand  times  dearer  to  me,  and  almost  sacred. 
I  was  his  betrothed  this  morning :  this  evening  I  am  his 
wife.  His  condemnation  was  our  nuptial  benediction. 
And  if  it  is  true,  as  grandpapa  says,  that  the  law  pro- 
hibits a  prisoner  to  marry  the  woman  he  loves,  well,  I 
will  be  his  without  marriage." 

Dionysia  spoke  all  this  aloud,  so  loud  that  it  seemed 
she  wanted  all  the  earth  to  hear  what  she  was  saying. 

"  Ah  !  let  me  reassure  you  by  a  single  word,  madam," 
said  M.  Folgat.  "  We  have  not  yet  come  to  that.  The 
sentence  is  not  final." 

The  Marquis  de  Boiscoran  and  M.  de  Chandore 
started. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     561 

"  An  oversight  which  M.  Galpin  has  committed 
makes  the  whole  proceeding  null  and  void.  You  will 
ask  how  a  man  of  his  character,  so  painstaking  and  so 
formal,  should  have  made  such  a  blunder.  Probably 
because  he  was  blinded  by  passion.  Why  has  nobody 
noticed  this  oversight  ?  Because  fate  owed  us  this  com- 
pensation. There  can  be  no  question  about  the  mat- 
ter. The  defect  is  a  defect  of  form ;  and  the  law  pro- 
vides expressly  for  the  case.  The  sentence  must  be 
declared  void,  and  we  shall  have  another  trial." 

"  And  you  never  told  us  any  thing  of  that?  "  asked 
Dionysia. 

"  We  hardly  dared  to  think  of  it,"  replied  M.  Ma- 
gloire.  "  It  was  one  of  those  secrets  which  we  dare 
not  confide  to  our  own  pillow.  Remember,  that,  in  the 
course  of  the  proceedings,  the  error  might  have  been 
corrected  at  any  time.  Now  it  is  too  late.  We  have 
time  before  us;  and  the  conduct  of  Count  Claudieuse 
relieves  us  from  all  restraint  of  delicacy.  The  veil  shall 
be  torn  now." 

The  door  opened  violently,  interrupting  his  words. 
Dr.  Seignebos  entered,  red  with  anger,  and  darting 
fiery  glances  from  under  his  gold  spectacles. 

"  Count  Claudieuse  ?  "  M.  Folgat  asked  eagerly. 

"  Is  next  door,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  They  have  laid 
him  down  on  a  mattress,  and  his  wife  is  by  his  side. 
What  a  profession  ours  is !  Here  is  a  man,  a  wretch, 
whom  I  should  be  most  happy  to  strangle  with  my 
own  hands ;  and  I  am  compelled  to  do  all  I  can  to  re- 
call him  to  life :  I  must  lavish  my  attentions  upon  him, 
and  seek  every  means  to  relieve  his  sufferings." 

"Is  he  any  better?" 

"  Not  at  all !  Unless  a  special  miracle  should  be  per- 
formed in  his  behalf,  he  will  leave  the  court-house  only 


562     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

feet  forward,  and  that  in  twenty-four  hours.  I  have 
not  concealed  it  from  the  countess ;  and  I  have  told  her, 
that,  if  she  wishes  her  husband  to  die  in  peace  with 
Heaven,  she  has  but  just  time  to  send  for  a  priest." 

"  And  she  has  sent  for  one  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all !  She  told  me  her  husband  would  be  ter- 
rified by  the  appearance  of  a  priest,  and  that  would 
hasten  his  end.  Even  when  the  good  priest  from 
Brechy  came  of  his  own  accord,  she  sent  him  off  un- 
ceremoniously." 

"  Ah  the  miserable  woman !  "  cried  Dionysia. 

And,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  she  added, — 

"  And  yet  that  may  be  our  salvation.  Yes,  certainly. 
Why  should  I  hesitate  ?  Wait  for  me  here :  I  am  com- 
ing back." 

She  hurried  out.  Her  grandpapa  was  about  to  fol- 
low her ;  but  M.  Folgat  stopped  him. 

"  Let  her  do  it,"  he  said,—"  let  her  do  it!  " 

It  had  just  struck  ten  o'clock.  The  court-house,  just 
now  as  full  and  as  noisy  as  a  bee-hive,  was  silent  and 
deserted.  In  the  immense  hall,  badly  lighted  by  a 
smoking  lamp,  there  were  only  two  men  to  be  seen. 
One  was  the  priest  from  Brechy,  who  was  praying  on 
his  knees  close  to  a  door ;  and  the  other  was  the  watch- 
man, who  was  slowly  walking  up  and  down,  and  whose 
steps  resounded  there  as  in  a  church. 

Dionysia  went  straight  up  to  the  latter. 

"  Where  is  Count  Claudieuse  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  There,  madam,"  replied  the  man,  pointing  at  the 
door  before  which  the  priest  is  praying, — "  there,  in  the 
private  office  of  the  commonwealth  attorney." 

"Who  is  with  him?" 

"  His  wife,  madam,  and  a  servant." 

"  Well,  go  in  and  tell  the  Countess  Claudieuse, — but 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     563 

so  that  her  husband  does  not  hear  you, — that  Miss 
Chandore  desires  to  see  her  a  few  moments." 

The  watchman  made  no  objection,  and  went  in.  But, 
when  he  came  back,  he  said  to  the  young  girl, — 

"  Madam,  the  countess  sends  word  that  she  cannot 
leave  her  husband,  who  is  very  low." 

She  stopped  him  by  an  impatient  gesture,  and  said, — 

"  Never  mind !  Go  back  and  tell  the  countess,  that, 
if  she  does  not  come  out,  I  shall  go  in  this  moment; 
that,  if  it  must  be,  I  shall  force  my  way  in;  that  I 
shall  call  for  help ;  that  nothing  will  keep  me.  I  must 
absolutely  see  her." 

"  But,  madam  "— 

"  Go !  Don't  you  see  that  it  is  a  question  of  life 
and  death  ?  " 

There  was  such  authority  in  her  voice,  that  the 
watchman  no  longer  hesitated.  He  went  in  once 
more,  and  reappeared  a  moment  after. 

"  Go  in,"  he  said  to  the  young  girl. 

She  went  in,  and  found  herself  in  a  little  anteroom 
which  preceded  the  office  of  the  commonwealth 
attorney.  A  large  lamp  illuminated  the  room.  The 
door  leading  to  the  room  in  which  the  count  was  lying 
was  closed. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  the  Countess  Clau- 
dieuse.  All  these  successive  blows  had  not  broken  her 
indomitable  energy.  She  looked  pale,  but  calm. 

"  Since  you  insist  upon  it,  madam,"  she  began,  "  I 
come  to  tell  you  myself  that  I  cannot  listen  to  you. 
Are  you  not  aware  that  I  am  standing  between  two 
open  graves, — that  of  my  poor  girl,'  who  is  dying  at 
my  house,  and  that  of  my  husband,  who  is  breathing 
his  last  in  there  ?  " 

She  made  a  motion  as  if  she  were  about  to  retire; 


564     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

but  Dionysia  stopped  her  by  a  threatening  look,  and 
said  with  a  trembling  voice, — 

"  If  you  go  back  into  that  room  where  your  husband 
is,  I  shall  go  back  with  you,  and  I  shall  speak  before 
him.  I  shall  ask  you  right  before  him,  how  you  dare 
order  a  priest  away  from  his  bedside  at  the  moment 
of  death,  and  whether,  after  having  robbed  him  of 
all  his  happiness  in  life,  you  mean  to  make  him  un- 
happy in  all  eternity." 

Instinctively  the  countess  drew  back. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  you  do  understand  me,  madam.  Why  will 
you  deny  it  ?  Do  you  not  see  that  I  know  every  thing, 
and  that  I  have  guessed  what  you  have  not  told  me? 
Jacques  was  your  lover;  and  your  husband  has  had 
his  revenge." 

"  Ah ! "  cried  the  countess,  "  that  is  too  much ; 
that  is  too  much  !  " 

"  And  you  have  permitted  it,"  Dionysia  went  on 
with  breathless  haste ;  "  and  you  did  not  come,  and 
cry  out  in  open  court  that  your  husband  was  a  false 
witness !  What  a  woman  you  must  be !  You  do  not 
mind  it,  that  your  love  carries  a  poor  unfortunate  man 
to  the  galleys.  You  mean  to  live  on  with  this  thought 
in  your  heart,  that  the  man  whom  you  love  is  innocent, 
and,  nevertheless,  disgraced  forever,  and  cut  off  from 
human  society.  A  priest  might  induce  the  count  to 
retract  his  statement,  you  know  very  well ;  and  hence 
you  refuse  to  let  the  priest  from  Brechy  come  to  his 
bedside.  And  what  is  the  end  and  aim  of  all  your 
crimes?  To  save  your  false  reputation  as  an  honest 
woman.  Ah!  that  is  miserable;  that  is  mean;  that  is 
infamous !  " 

The  countess  was  roused  at  last.    What  all  M.  Fol- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     565 

gat's  skill  and  ability  had  not  been  able  to  accomplish, 
Dionysia  obtained  in  an  instant  by  the  force  of  her 
passion.  Throwing  aside  her  mask,  the  countess  ex- 
claimed with  a  perfect  burst  of  rage, — 

"  Well,  then,  no,  no !  I  have  not  acted  so,  and 
permitted  all  this  to  happen,  because  I  care  for  my 
reputation.  My  reputation! — what  does  it  matter?  It 
is  only  a  week  ago,  when  Jacques  had  succeeded  in 
escaping  from  prison,  I  offered  to  flee  with  him.  He 
had  only  to  say  a  word,  and  I  should  have  given  up 
my  family,  my  children,  my  country,  every  thing,  for 
him.  He  answered,  '  Rather  the  galleys  ! ' ' 

In  the  midst  of  all  her  fearful  sufferings,  Dionysia's 
heart  filled  with  unspeakable  happiness  as  she  heard 
these  words.  Ah!  now  she  could  no  longer  doubt 
Jacques. 

"  He  has  condemned  himself,  you  see,"  continued 
the  countess.  "  I  was  quite  willing  to  ruin  myself 
for  him,  but  certainly  not  for  another  woman." 

"  And  that  other  woman — no  doubt  you  mean 
me!" 

"  Yes ! — you  for  whose  sake  he  abandoned  me, — 
you  whom  he  was  going  to  marry, — you  with  whom 
he  hoped  to  enjoy  long  happy  years,  and  a  happiness 
not  furtive  and  sinful  like  ours,  but  a  legitimate,  hon- 
orable happiness." 

Tears  were  trembling  in  Dionysia's  eyes.  She  was 
beloved :  she  thought  of  what  she  must  suffer  who  was 
not  beloved. 

"  And  yet  I  should  have  been  more  generous,"  she 
murmured.  The  countess  broke  out  into  a  fierce, 
savage  laugh. 

"  And  the  proof  of  it  is,"  said  the  young  girl,  "  that 
I  came  to  offer  you  a  bargain." 


566     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"A  bargain?" 

"  Yes.  Save  Jacques,  and,  by  all  that  is  sacred  to 
me  in  the  world,  I  promise  I  will  enter  a  convent : 
I  will  disappear,  and  you  shall  never  hear  my  name 
any  more." 

Intense  astonishment  seized  the  countess,  and  she 
looked  at  Dionysia  with  a  glance  full  of  doubt  and 
mistrust.  Such  devotion  seemed  to  her  too  sublime 
not  to  conceal  some  snare. 

"  You  would  really  do  that  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Unhesitatingly." 

"  You  would  make  a  great  sacrifice  for  my  benefit  ?  " 

"  For  yours  ?    No,  madam,  for  Jacques's." 

"  You  love  him  very  dearly,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  love  him  dearly  enough  to  prefer  his  happiness 
to  my  own  a  thousand  times  over.  Even  if  I  were 
buried  in  the  depths  of  a  convent,  I  should  still  have 
the  consolation  of  knowing  that  he  owed  his  rehabili- 
tation to  me ;  and  I  should  suffer  less  in  knowing  that 
he  belonged  to  another  than  that  he  was  innocent,  and 
yet  condemned." 

But,  in  proportion  as  the  young  girl  thus  confirmed 
her  sincerity, , the  brow  of  the  countess  grew, darkey 
and  sterner,  and  passing  blushes  mantled  her  cheek. 
At  last  she  said  with  haughty  irony, — 

"  Admirable !  " 

"  Madam ! " 

"  You  condescend  to  give  up  M.  de  Boiscoran.  Will 
that  make  him  love  me?  You  know  very  well  he  will 
not.  You  know  that  he  loves  you  alone.  Heroism 
with  such  conditions  is  easy  enough.  What  have  you 
to  fear  ?  Buried  in  a  convent,  he  will  love  you  only  all 
the  more  ardently,  and  he  will  execrate  me  all  the 
more  fervently." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     567 

"  He  shall  never  know  any  thing  of  our  bargain !  " 

'•'Ah!  What  does  that  matter?  He  will  guess  it, 
if  you  do  not  tell  him.  No :  I  know  what  awaits  me. 
I  have  felt  it  now  for  two  years, — this  agony  of  seeing 
him  becoming  daily  more  detached  from  me.  What 
have  I  not  done  to  keep  him  near  me !  How  I  have 
stooped  to  meanness,  to  falsehood,  to  keep  him  a 
single  day  longer,  perhaps  a  single  hour !  But  all  was 
useless.  .  I  was  a  burden  to  him.  He  loved  me  no 
longer;  and  my  love  became  to  him  a  heavier  load 
than  the  cannon-ball  which  they  will  fasten  to  his 
chains  at  the  galleys." 

Dionysia  shuddered. 

"  That  is  horrible  !  "  she  murmured. 

"  Horrible  ?  yes,  but  true.  You  look  amazed.  That 
is  because  you  have  as  yet  only  seen  the  morning 
dawn  of  your  love :  wait  for  the  dark  evening,  and 
you  will  understand  me.  Is  not  the  story  of  all  of  us 
women  the  same?  I  have  seen  Jacques  at  my  feet  as 
you  see  him  at  yours :  the  vows  he  swears  to  you,  he 
once  swore  to  me ;  and  he  swore  them  to  me  with  the 
same  voice,  tremulous  with  passion,  and  with  the  same 
burning  glances.  But  you  think  you  will  be  his  wife, 
and  I  never  was.  What  does  that  matter?  What 
does  he  tell  you?  That  he  will  love  you  forever,  be- 
cause his  love  is  under  the  protection  of  God  and  of 
men.  He  told  me,  precisely  because  our  love  was  not 
thus  protected,  that  we  should  be  united  by  indis- 
soluble bonds, — bonds  stronger  than  all  others.  You 
have  his  promise:  so  had  I.  And  the  proof  of  it  is 
that  I  gave  him  every  thing, — my  honor  and  the  honor 
of  my  family,  and  that  I  would  have  given  him  still 
more,  if  there  had  been  any  more  to  give.  And  now 
to  be  betrayed,  forsaken,  despised,  to  sink  lower  and 


S68     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

lower,  until  at  last  I  must  become  the  object  of  your 
pity!  To  have  fallen  so  low,  that  you  should  dare 
come  and  offer  me  to  give  up  Jacques  for  my  benefit ! 
Ah,  that  is  maddening !  And  I  should  let  the  venge- 
ance I  hold  in  my  hands  slip  from  me  at  your  bidding ! 
I  should  be  stupid  enough,  blind  enough,  to  allow  my- 
self to  be  touched  by  your  hypocritical  tears  !  I  should 
secure  your  happiness  by  the  sacrifice  of  my  reputa- 
tion !  No,  madam,  cherish  no  such  hope !  " 

Her  voice  expired  in  her  throat  in  a  kind  of  toneless 
rattle.  She  walked  up  and  down  a  few  times  in  the 
room.  Then  she  placed  herself  straight  before  Diony- 
sia,  and,  looking  fixedly  into  her  eyes,  she  asked, — 

"  Who  suggested  to  you  this  plan  of  coming  here, 
this  supreme  insult  which  you  tried  to  inflict  upon 
me?" 

Dionysia  was  seized  with  unspeakable  horror,  and 
hardly  found  heart  to  reply. 

"  No  one,"  she  murmured. 

"M.  Folgat?" 
'•    "  Knows  nothing  of  it." 

"And  Jacques?" 

"  I  have  not  seen  him.  THe  thought  occurred  to 
me  quite  suddenly,  like  an  inspiration  on  high.  When 
Dr.  Seignebos  told  me  that  you  had  refused  to  admit 
the  priest  from  Brechy,  I  said  to  myself,  '  This  is  the 
last  misfortune,  and  the  greatest  of  them  all !  If 
Count  Claudieuse  dies  without  retracting,  Jacques  can 
never  be  fully  restored,  whatever  may  happen  here- 
after, not  even  if  his  innocence  should  be  established.' 
Then  I  made  up  my  mind  to  come  to  you.  Ah !  it  was 
a  hard  task.  But  I  was  in  hopes  I  might  touch  your 
heart,  or  that  you  might  be  moved  by  the  greatness  of 
my  sacrifice." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS   LIFE     569 

The  countess  was  really  moved.  There  is  no  heart 
absolutely  bad,  as  there  is  none  altogether  good.  As 
she  listened  to  Dionysia's  passionate  entreaty,  her 
resolution  began  to  grow  weaker. 

"  Would  it  be  such  a  very  great  sacrifice  ? "  she 
asked. 

Tears  sprang  to  the  eyes  of  the  poor  young  girl. 

"  Alas !  "  she  said,  "  I  offer  you  my  life.  I  know 
very  well  you  will  not  be  long  jealous  of  me." 

She  was  interrupted  by  groans,  which  seemed  to 
come  from  the  room  in  which  the  count  was  lying. 

The  countess  half-opened  the  door ;  and  immediately 
a  feeble,  and  yet  imperious  voice  was  heard  calling 
out, — 

"  Genevieve,  I  say,  Genevieve !  " 

"  I  am  coming,  my  dear,  in  a  moment,"  replied  the 
countess. 

"  What  security  can  you  give  me,"  she  said  in  a 
hard  and  stern  voice,  after  having  closed  the  door 
again, — "  what  security  do  you  give  me,  that  if 
Jacques's  innocence  were  established,  and  he  rein- 
stated, you  would  not  forget  your  promises  ?  " 

"  Ah,  madam !  how  or  upon  what  do  you  want  me 
to  swear  that  I  am  ready  to  disappear.  Choose  your 
own  securities,  and  I  will  do  whatever  you  require." 

Then,  sinking  down  on  her  knees,  before  the 
countess,  she  went  on, — 

"  Here  I  am  at  your  feet,  madam,  humble  and  sup- 
pliant,— I  whom  you  accuse  of  a  desire  to  insult  you. 
Have  pity  on  Jacques !  Ah !  if  you  loved  him  as  much 
as  I  do,  you  would  not  hesitate." 

The  countess  raised  her  suddenly  and  quickly,  and, 
holding  her  hands  in  her  own,  looked  at  her  for  more 
than  a  minute  without  saying  a  word,  but  with  heav- 


S7o     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

ing  bosom  and  trembling  lips.  At  last  she  asked  in  a 
voice  which  was  so  deeply  affected,  that  it  was  hardly 
intelligible. 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  Induce  Count  Claudieuse  to  retract." 

The  countess  shook  her  head. 

"  It  would  be  useless  to  try.  You  do  not  know  the 
count.  He  is  a  man  of  iron.  You  might  tear  his  flesh 
inch  by  inch  with  hot  iron  pincers,  and  he  would  not 
take  back  one  of  his  words.  You  cannot  conceive  what 
he  has  suffered,  nor  the  depth  of  the  hatred,  the  rage, 
and  the  thirst  of  vengeance,  which  have  accumulated 
in  his  heart.  It  was  to  torture  me  that  he  brought  me 
here  to  his  bedside.  Only  five  minutes  ago  he  told 
me  that  he  died  content,  since  Jacques  was  declared 
guilty,  and  condemned  through  his  evidence." 

She  was  conquered ;  her  energy  was  exhausted,  and 
tears  came  to  her  eyes. 

"  He  has  been  so  cruelly  tried !  "  she  went  on.  "  He 
loved  me  to  distraction ;  he  loved  nothing  in  the  world 
but  me.  And  I —  Ah,  if  we  could  know,  if  we  could 
foresee !  No,  I  shall  never  be  able  to  induce  him  to 
retract." 

Dionysia  almost  forgot  her  own  great  grief. 

"  Nor  do  I  expect  you  to  obtain  that  favor,"  she  said 
very  gently. 

"Who,  then?" 

"  The  priest  from  Brechy.  He  will  surely  find 
words  to  shake  even  the  firmest  resolution.  He  can 
speak  in  the  name  of  that  God,  who,  even  on  the  cross, 
forgave  those  who  crucified  Him." 

One  moment  longer  the  countess  hesitated;  and 
then,  overcoming  finally  the  last  rebellious  impulses 
of  her  pride,  she  said, — 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     571 

"  Well,  I  will  call  the  priest." 

"  And  I,  madam,  I  swear  I  will  keep  my  promise." 

But  the  countess  stopped  her,  and  said,  making  a 
supreme  effort  over  herself, — 

"  No :  I  shall  try  to  save  Jacques  without  making 
conditions.  Let  him  be  yours.  He  loves  you,  and  you 
were  ready  to  sacrifice  your  life  for  his  sake.  He 
forsakes  me ;  but  I  sacrifice  my  honor  to  him.  Fare- 
well ! " 

And  hastening  to  the  door,  while  Dionysia  returned 
to  her  friends,  she  summoned  the  priest  from  Brechy. 


II. 


M.  DAUBIGEON,  the  commonwealth  attorney,  learned 
next  morning  from  his  chief  clerk  what  had  hap- 
pened, and  how  the  proceedings  in  the  Boiscoran  case 
were  necessarily  null  and  void  on  account  of  a  fatal 
error  in  form.  The  counsel  of  the  defence  had  lost 
no  time,  and,  after  spending  the  whole  night  in  consul- 
tation, had  early  that  morning  presented  their  appli- 
cation for  a  new  trial  to  the  court. 

The  commonwealth  attorney  took  no  pains  to  con- 
ceal his  satisfaction. 

"  Now,"  he  cried,  "  this  will  worry  my  friend  Galpin, 
and  clip  his  wings  considerably;  and  yet  I  had  called 
his  attention  to  the  lines  of  Horace,  in  which  he  speaks 
of  Phaeton's  sad  fate,  and  says, — 

'  Terret  ambustus  Phaeton  avaras 
Spes.' 


572     WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

But  he  would  not  listen  to  me,  forgetting,  that,  with- 
out prudence,  force  is  a  danger. 

'Vis  consilii  enfers  mole  ruit  sua.' 

And  there  he  is  now,  in  great  difficulty,  I  am  sure." 

And  at  once  he  made  haste  to  dress,  and  to  go  and 
see  M.  Galpin  in  order  to  hear  all  the  details  accu- 
rately, as  he  told  his  clerk,  but,  in  reality,  in  order  to 
enjoy  to  his  heart's  content  the  discomfiture  of  the 
ambitious  magistrate. 

He  found  him  furious,  and  ready  to  tear  his  hair. 

"  I  am  disgraced,"  he  repeated ;  "  I  am  ruined ;  I 
am  lost.  All  my  prospects,  all  my  hopes,  are  gone. 
I  shall  never  be  forgiven  for  such  an  oversight." 

To  look  at  M.  Daubigeon,  you  would  have  thought 
he  was  sincerely  distressed. 

"  Is  it  really  true,"  he  said  with  an  air  of  assumed 
pity, — "  is  it  really  true,  what  they  tell  me,  that  this 
unlucky  mistake  was  made  by  you  ?  " 

"  By  me  ?  Yes,  indeed !  I  forgot  those  wretched 
details  which  a  scholar  knows  by  heart.  Can  you  un- 
derstand that?  And  to  say  that  no  one  noticed  my 
inconceivable  blindness !  Neither  the  first  court  of 
inquiry,  nor  the  attorney-general  himself,  nor  the  pre- 
siding judge,  ever  said  a  word  about  it.  It  is  my  fate. 
And  that  is  to  be  the  result  of  all  my  labors.  Every- 
body, no  doubt,  said,  '  Oh !  M.  Galpin  has  the  case  in 
hand ;  he  knows  all  about  it :  no  need  to  look  after 
the  matter  when  such  a  man  has  taken  hold  of  it/ 
And  here  I  am.  Oh !  I  might  kill  myself." 

"  It  is  all  the  more  fortunate,"  replied  M.  Dau- 
bigeon, "that  yesterday  the  case  was  hanging  on  a 
thread." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     573 

The  magistrate  gnashed  his  teeth,  and  replied, — 

"  Yes,  on  a  thread,  thanks  to  M.  Domini !  whose 
weakness  I  cannot  comprehend,  and  who  did  not 
know  at  all,  or  who  was  not  willing  to  know,  how  to 
make  the  most  of  the  evidence.  But  it  was  M.  Gran- 
siere's  fault  quite  as  much.  What  had  he  to  do  with 
politics  to  drag  them  into  the  affair?  And  whom  did 
he  want  to  hit?  No  one  else  but  M.  Magloire,  the 
man  whom  everybody  respects  in  the  whole  district, 
and  who  had  three  warm  personal  friends  among  the 
jurymen.  I  foresaw  it,  and  I  told  him  where  he  would 
get  into  trouble.  But  there  are  people  who  will  not 
listen.  M.  Gransiere  wants  to  be  elected  himself.  It 
is  a  fancy,  a  monomania  of  our  day :  everybody  wants 
to  be  a  deputy.  I  wish  Heaven  would  confound  all 
ambitious  men !  " 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  no  doubt  for  the 
last  time  also,  the  commonwealth  attorney  rejoiced  at 
the  misfortune  of  others.  Taking  savage  pleasure  in 
turning  the  dagger  in  his  poor  friend's  wounds,  he 
said, — • 

"  No  doubt  M.  Folgat's  speech  had  something  to  do 
with  it." 

"  Nothing  at  all." 

"  He  was  brilliantly  successful." 

"  He  took  them  by  surprise.  It  was  nothing  but  a 
big  voice,  and  grand,  rolling  sentences." 

"  But  still  "— 

"  And  what  did  he  say,  after  all  ?  That  the  prosecu- 
tion did  not  know  the  real  secret  of  the  case.  That 
is  absurd ! " 

"  The  new  judges  may  not  think  so,  however." 

"We  shall  see." 

"  This  time  M.  de  Boiscoran's  defence  will  be  very 


574     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

different.     He  will  spare  nobody.     He  is  down  now, 
and  cannot  fall  any  lower. 

'Qui  jacet  in  terra  non  habet  unde  cadat.'  " 

"  That  may  be.  But  he  also  risks  having  a  less  in- 
dulgent jury,  and  not  getting  off  with  twenty  years." 

"  What  do  his  counsel  say  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  But  I  have  just  sent  my  clerk  to 
find  out ;  and,  if  you  choose  to  wait " — 

M.  Daubigeon  did  wait,  and  he  did  well;  for  M. 
Mechinet  came  in  very  soon  after,  with  a  long  face  for 
the  world,  but  inwardly  delighted. 

"Well?"  asked  M.  Galpin  eagerly. 

He  shook  his  head,  and  said  in  a  melancholy  tone 
of  voice, — 

"  I  have  never  seen  any  thing  like  this.  How  fickle 
public  opinion  is,  after  all!  Day  before  yesterday  M. 
de  Boiscoran  could  not  have  passed  through  the  town 
without  being  mobbed.  If  he  should  show  himself 
to-day,  they  would  carry  him  in  triumph.  He  has 
been  condemned,  and  now  he  is  a  martyr.  It  is 
known  already  that  the  sentence  is  void,  and  they  are 
delighted.  My  sisters  have  just  told  me  that  the  ladies 
in  good  society  propose  to  give  to  the  Marchioness  de 
Boiscoran  and  to  Miss  Chandore  some  public  evidence 
of  their  sympathy.  The  members  of  the  bar  will  give 
M.'Folgat  a  public  dinner." 

"  Why,  that  is  monstrous ! "  cried  M.  Galpin. 

"  Well,"  said  M.  Daubigeon,  "  '  the  opinions  of  men 
are  more  fickle  and  changeable  than  the  waves  of  the 
sea.' " 

But,  interrupting  the  quotation,  M.  Galpin  asked 
his  clerk, — 

"Well,  what  else?'- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     575 

"  I  went  to  hand  M.  Gransiere  the  letter  which  you 
gave  me  for  him  " — 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  I  found  him  in  consultation  with  the  president,  M. 
Domini.  He  took  the  letter,  glanced  at  it  rapidly,  and 
told  me  in  his  most  icy  tone,  '  Very  well ! '  To  tell 
the  truth,  I  thought,  that,  in  spite  of  his  stiff  and 
grand  air,  he  was  in  reality  furious." 

The  magistrate  looked  utterly  in  despair. 

"  I  can't  stand  it,"  he  said,  sighing.  "  These  men 
whose  veins  have  no  blood  in  them,  but  poison,  never 
forgive." 

"  Day  before  yesterday  you  thought  very  highly  of 
him."  ' 

"  Day  before  yesterday  he  did  not  look  upon  me  as 
the  cause  of  a  great  misfortune  for  him." 

M.  Mechinet  went  on  quite  eagerly, — 

"  After  leaving  M.  Gransiere,  I  went  to  the  court- 
house, and  there  I  heard  the  great  piece  of  news  which 
has  set  all  the  town  agog.  Count  Claudieuse  is  dead." 

M.  Daubigeon  and  M.  Galpin  looked  at  each  other, 
and  exclaimed  in  the  same  breath, — 

"Great  God!    Is  that  so?" 

"  He  breathed  his  last  this  morning,  at  two  or  three 
minutes  before  six  o'clock.  I  saw  his  body  in  the 
private  room  of  the  attorney-general.  The  priest  from 
Brechy  .was  there,  and  two  other  priests  from  his 
parish.  They  were  waiting  for  a  bier  to  have  him 
carried  to  his  house." 

"  Poor  man ! "  murmured  M.  Daubigeon. 

"  But  I  heard  a  great  deal  more,"  Mechinet  said, 
"  from  the  watchman  who  was  on  guard  last  night. 
He  told  me,  that  when  the  trial  was  over,  and  it  be- 
came known  that  Count  Claudieuse  was  likely  to  die, 


576     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

the  priest  from  Brechy  came  there,  and  asked  to  be 
allowed  to  offer  him  the  last  consolations  of  his  church. 
The  countess  refused  to  let  him  come  to  the  bedside 
of  her  husband.  The  watchman  was  amazed  at  this ; 
and  just  then  Miss  Chandore  suddenly  appeared,  and 
sent  word  to  the  countess  that  she  wanted  to  speak 
to  her." 

"  Is  it  possible?" 

"  Quite  certain.  They  remained  together  for  more 
than  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  What  did  they  say  ?  The 
watchman  told  me  he  was  dying  with  curiosity  to 
know;  but  he  could  hear  nothing,  because  there  was 
the  priest  from  Brechy,  all  the  while,  kneeling  before 
the  door,  and  praying.  When  they  parted,  they  looked 
terribly  excited.  Then  the  countess  immediately  called 
in  the  priest,  and  he  stayed  with  the  count  till  he 
died." 

M.  Daubigeon  and  M.  Galpin  had  not  yet  recovered 
from  their  amazement  at  this  account,  when  somebody 
knocked  timidly  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in !  "  cried  Mechinet. 

The  door  opened,  and  the  sergeant  of  gendarmes 
appeared. 

"  I  have  been  sent  here  by  the  attorney-general,"  he 
said ;  "  and  the  servant  told  me  you  were  up  here.  We 
have  just  caught  Trumence." 

"  That  man  who  had  escaped  from  jail  ?  " 

"  Yes.  We  were  about  to  carry  him  back  there, 
when  he  told  us  that  he  had  a  secret  to  reveal,  a  very 
important,  urgent  secret,  concerning  the  condemned 
prisoner,  Boiscoran." 

"Trumence?" 

"Yes.  Then  we  carried  him  to  the  court-house, 
and  I  came  for  orders." 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     577 

"  Run  and  say  I  am  coming  to  see  him!  "  cried  M. 
Daubigeon.  "  Make  haste !  I  am  coming  after  you." 

But  the  gendarme,  a  model  of  obedience,  had  not 
waited  so  long:  he  was  already  down  stairs. 

"  I  must  leave  you,  Galpin,"  said  M.  Daubigeon, 
very  much  excited.  "  You  heard  what  the  man  said. 
We  must  know  what  that  means  at  once." 

But  the  magistrate  was  not  less  excited. 

"  You  permit  me  to  accompany  you,  I  hope  ?  "  he 
asked. 

He  had  a  right  to  do  so. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  commonwealth  attorney. 
"  But  make  haste  !  " 

The  recommendation  was  not  needed.  M.  Galpin 
had  already  put  on  his  boots.  He  now  slipped  his 
overcoat  over  his  home  dress,  as  he  was ;  and  off  they 
went. 

Mechinet  followed  the  two  gentlemen  as  they 
hastened  down  the  street;  and  the  good  people  of 
Sauveterre,  always  on  the  lookout,  were  not  a  little 
scandalized  at  seeing  their  well-known  magistrate,  M. 
Galpin,  in  his  home  costume, — he  who  generally  was 
most  scrupulously  precise  in  his  dress. 

Standing  on  their  door-steps,  they  said  to  each 
other, — 

"  Something  very  important  must  have  happened. 
Just  look  at  these  gentlemen !  " 

The  fact  was,  they  were  walking  sp  fast,  that  people 
might  well  wonder;  and  they  did  not  say  a  word  all 
the  way. 

But,  ere  they  reached  the  court-house,  they  were 
forced  to  stop;  for  some  four  or  five  hundred  people 
were  filling  the  court,  crowding  on  the  steps,  and  actu- 
ally pressing  against  the  doors. 


578     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS   LIFE 

Immediately  all  became  silent;  hats  were  raised; 
the  crowd  parted;  and  a  passage  was  opened. 

On  the  porch  appeared  the  priest  from  Brechy,  and 
two  other  priests. 

Behind  them  came  attendants  from  the  hospital, 
who  bore  a  bier  covered  with  black  cloth;  and  be- 
neath the  cloth  the  outlines  of  a  human  body  could 
be  seen. 

The  women  began  to  cry;  and  those  who  had  room 
enough  knelt  down. 

"  Poor  countess  !  "  murmured  one  of  them.  "  Here 
is  her  husband  dead,  and  they  say  one  of  her  daugh- 
ters is  dying  at  home." 

But  M.  Daubigeon,  the  magistrate,  and  Mechinet 
were  too  preoccupied  with  their  own  interests  to  think 
of  stopping  for  more  reliable  news.  The  way  was 
open :  they  went  in,  and  hastened  to  the  clerk's  office, 
where  the  gendarmes  had  taken  Trumence,  and  now 
were  guarding  him. 

He  rose  as  soon  as  he  recognized  the  gentlemen, 
and  respectfully  took  off  his  cap.  It  was  really  Tru- 
mence ;  but  the  good-for-nothing  vagrant  did  not  pre- 
sent his  usual  careless  appearance.  He  looked  pale, 
and  was  evidently  very  much  excited. 

"  Well,"  said  M.  Daubigeon,  "  so  you  have  allowed 
yourself  to  be  retaken  ?  " 

"Beg  pardon,  judge,"  replied  the  poor  fellow,  "I 
was  not  retaken.  I  came  of  my  own  accord." 

"  Involuntarily,  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Quite  by  my  own  free  will !  Just  ask  the  ser. 
geant." 

The  sergeant  stepped  forward,  touched  his  cap,  and 
reported, — 

"  That  is  the  naked  truth.    Trumence  came  himself 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     579 

to  our  barrack,  and  said,  '  I  surrender  as  a  prisoner. 
I  wish  to  speak  to  the  commonwealth  attorney,  and 
give  important  evidence.' " 

The  vagabond  drew  himself  up  proudly, — 

"  You  see,  sir,  that  I  did  not  lie.  While  these  gen- 
tlemen were  galloping  all  over  the  country  in  search 
of  me,  I  was  snugly  ensconced  in  a  garret  at  the  Red 
Lamb,  and  did  not  think  of  coming  out  from  there 
till  I  should  be  entirely  forgotten." 

"  Yes ;  but  people  who  lodge  at  the  Red  Lamb  have 
to  pay,  and  you  had  no  money." 

Trumence  very  quietly  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
handful  of  Napoleons,  and  of  five-and-twenty-franc 
notes,  and  showed  them. 

"  You  see  that  I  had  the  wherewithal  to  pay  for  my 
room,"  he  said.  "  But  I  surrendered,  because,  after 
all,  I  am  an  honest  man,  and  I  would  rather  suffer 
some  trouble  myself  than  see  an  innocent  gentleman 
go  to  the  galleys." 

"M.  de  Boiscoran?" 

"  Yes.  He  is  innocent !  I  know  it ;  I  am  sure  of  it ; 
and  I  can  prove  it.  And,  if  he  will  not  tell,  I  will  tell, 
-r-^ell  every  .thing !  " 

M.  Daubigeon  and  M.  Galpin  were  utterly 
astounded. 

"  Explain  yourself,"  they  both  said  in  the  same 
breath. 

But  the  vagrant  shook  his  head,  pointing  at  the 
gendarmes ;  and,  as  a  man  who  is  quite  cognizant  of 
all  the  formalities  of  the  law,  he  replied, — 

"  But  it  is  a  great  secret ;  and,  when  one  confesses, 
one  does  not  like  anybody  else  to  hear  it  but  the 
priest.  Besides,  I  should  like  my  deposition  to  be 
taken  down  in  writing." 


58o     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

Upon  a  sign  made  by  M.  Galpin,  the  gendarmes 
withdrew ;  and  Mechinet  took  his  seat  at  a  table,  with 
a  blank  sheet  of  paper  before  him. 

"  Now  we  can  talk,"  said  Trnmence :  "  that's  the 
way  I  like  it.  I  was  not  thinking  myself  of  running 
away.  I  was  pretty  well  off  in  jail;  winter  is  coming, 
I  had  not  a  cent ;  and  I  knew,  that,  if  I  were  retaken, 
I  should  fare  rather  badly.  But  M.  Jacques  de  Bois- 
coran  had  a  notion  to  spend  a  night  outside." 

"  Mind  what  you  are  saying,"  M.  Galpin  broke  in 
severely.  "  You  cannot  play  with  the  law,  and  go 
off  unpunished." 

"  May  I  die  if  I  do  not  tell  the  truth ! "  cried  Tru- 
mence.  "  M.  Jacques  has  spent  a  whole  night  out  of 
jail." 

The  magistrate  trembled. 

"  What  a  story  that  is !  "  he  said  again. 

"  I  have  my  proof,"  replied  Trumence  coldly,  "  and 
you  shall  hear.  Well,  as  he  wanted  to  leave,  M. 
Jacques  came  to  me,  and  we  agreed,  that  in  considera- 
tion of  a  certain  sum  of  money  which  he  has  paid  me, 
and  of  which  you  have  seen  just  now  all  that  is  left, 
I  should  make  a  hole  in  the  wall,  and  that  I  should 
run  off  altogether,  while  he  was  to  come  back  when 
he  had  done  his  business." 

"And  the  jailer?"  asked  M.  Daubigeon. 

Like  a  true  peasant  of  his  promise,  Trumence  was 
far  too  cunning  to  expose  Blangin  unnecessarily.  As- 
suming, therefore,  the  whole  responsibility  of  the  eva- 
sion, he  replied, — 

"  The  jailer  saw  nothing.  We  had  no  use  for  him. 
Was  not  I,  so  to  say,  under- jailer?  Had  not  I  been 
charged  by  you  yourself,  M.  Galpin,  with  keeping 
watch  over  M.  Jacques?  Was  it  not  I  who  opened 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     581 

and  locked  his  door,  who  took  him  to  the  parlor,  and 
brought  him  back  again  ?  " 

That  was  the  exact  truth. 

"  Go  on !  "  said  M.  Galpin  harshly. 

"  Well,"  said  Trumence,  "  every  thing  was  done  as 
agreed  upon.  One  evening,  about  nine  o'clock,  I  make 
my  hole  in  the  wall,  and  here  we  are,  M.  Jacques  and 
I,  on  the  ramparts.  There  he  slips  a  package  of  bank- 
notes into  my  hand,  and  tells  me  to  run  for  it,  while  he 
goes  about  his  business.  I  thought  he  was  innocent 
then;  but  you  see  I  should  not  exactly  have  gone 
through  the  fire  for  him  as  yet.  I  said  to  myself,  that 
perhaps  he  was  making  fun  of  me,  and  that,  once  on 
the  wing,  he  would  not  be  such  a  fool  as  to  go  back 
into  the  cage.  This  made  me  curious,  as  he  was  going 
off,  to  see  which  way  he  was  going, — and  there  I  was, 
following  him  close  upon  his  heels ! " 

The  magistrate  and  the  commonwealth  attorney, 
accustomed  as  they  both  were,  by  the  nature  of  their 
profession,  to  conceal  their  feelings,  could  hardly  re- 
strain now, — one,  the  hope  trembling  within  him,  and 
the  other,  the  vague  apprehensions  which  began  to 
fill  his  heart. 

Mechinet,  who  knew  already  all  that  was  coming, 
laughed  in  his  sleeve  while  his  pen  was  flying  rapidly 
over  the  paper. 

"  He  was  afraid  he  might  be  recognized,"  continued 
the  vagrant,  "  and  so  M.  Jacques  had  been  running 
ever  so  fast,  keeping  close  to  the  wall,  and  choosing 
the  narrowest  lanes.  Fortunately,  I  have  a  pair  of 
very  good  legs.  He  goes  through  Sauveterre  like  a 
race-horse;  and,  when  he  reaches  Mautrec  Street,  he 
begins  to  ring  the  bell  at  a  large  gate." 

"  At  Count  Claudieuse's  house !  " 


582     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  I  know  now  what  house  it  was ;  but  I  did  not  know 
then.  Well,  he  rings.  A  servant  comes  and  opens. 
He  speaks  to  her,  and  immediately  she  invites  him  in, 
and  that  so  eagerly,  that  she  forgets  to  close  the  gate 
again." 

M.  Daubigeon  stopped  him  by  a  gesture. 

"Wait!"  he  said. 

And,  taking  up  a  blank  form,  he  filled  it  up,  rang 
the  bell,  and  said  to  an  usher  of  the  court  who  had 
hastened  in,  giving  him  the  printed  paper, — 

"  I  want  this  to  be  taken  immediately.  Make  haste ; 
and  not  a  word  !  " 

Then  Trumence  was  directed  to  go  on;  and  he 
said, — 

"  There  I  was,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  street, 
feeling  like  a  fool.  I  thought  I  had  nothing  left  me 
but  to  go  and  use  my  legs :  that  was  safest  for  me. 
But  that  wretched,  half-open  gate  attracted  me.  I 
said  to  myself,  '  If  you  go  in,  and  they  catch  you,  they 
will  think  you  have  come  to  steal,  and  you'll  have  to 
pay  for  it.'  That  was  true ;  but  the  temptation  was  too 
strong  for  me.  My  curiosity  broke  my  heart,  so  to 
say,  and,  '  Come  what  may,  I'll  risk  it,'  I  said.  I  push 
the  huge  gate  just  wide  enough  open  to  let  me  in,  and 
here  I  am  in  a  large  garden.  It  was  pitch  dark ;  but, 
quite  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  three  windows  in 
the  lower  story  of  the  house  were  lighted  up.  I  had 
ventured  too  far  now  to  go  back.  So  I  went  on,  creep- 
ing along  stealthily,  until  I  reached  a  tree,  against 
which  I  pressed  closely,  about  the  length  of  my  arm 
from  one  of  the  windows,  which  belonged  to  a  beau- 
tiful parlor.  I  look — and  I  see  whom?  M.  de  Boisco- 
ran.  As  there  were  no  curtains  to  the  windows,  I 
could  see  as  well  as  I  can  see  you.  His  face  looked 


WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     583 

terrible.  I  was  asking  myself  for  whom  he  could  be 
waiting  there,  when  I  saw  him  hiding  behind  the  open 
door  of  the  room,  like  a  man  who  is  lying  in  wait  for 
somebody,  with  evil  intentions.  This  troubled  me  very 
much ;  but  the  next  moment  a  lady  came  in.  Instantly 
M.  Jacques  shuts  the  door  behind  her ;  the  lady  turns 
round,  sees  him,  and  wants  to  run,  uttering  at  the 
same  time  a  loud  cry.  That  lady  was  the  Countess 
Claudieuse ! " 

He  looked  as  if  he  wished  to  pause  to  watch  the 
effect  of  his  revelation.  But  Mechinet  was  so  impa- 
tient, that  he  forgot  the  modest  character  of  his  duty, 
and  said  hastily, — 

"  Go  on ;  go  on !  " 

"  One  of  the  windows  was  half  open,"  continued 
the  vagrant,  "  and  thus  I  could  hear  almost  as  well  as 
I  saw.  I  crouched  down  on  all-fours,  and  kept  my 
head  on  a  level  with  the  ground,  so  as  not  to  lose  a 
word.  Oh,  it  was  fearful !  At  the  first  word  I  under- 
stood it  all :  M.  Jacques  and  the  Countess  Claudieuse 
had  been  lovers." 

"  This  is  madness ! "  cried  M.  Galpin. 

"  Well,  I  tell  you  I  was  amazed.  The  Countess 
Qaudieuse — such  a  pious  lady!  But  I  have  ears; 
don't  you  think  I  have  ?  M.  Jacques  reminded  her  of 
the  night  of  the  crime,  how  they  had  been  together 
a  few  minutes  before  the  fire  broke  out,  as  they  had 
agreed  some  days  before  to  meet  near  Valpinson  at 
that  very  time.  At  this  meeting  they  had  burnt  their 
love-letters,  and  M.  Jacques  had  blackened  his  fingers 
badly  in  burning  them." 

"Did  you  really  hear  that?"  asked  M.  Daubigeon. 

"  As  I  hear  you,  sir." 

"  Write    it    down,    Mechinet,"    said    the    common- 


584     WITHIN   AN   INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

wealth  attorney  with  great  eagerness, — "  write  that 
down  carefully." 

The  clerk  was  sure  to  do  it. 

"  What  surprised  me  most,"  continued  Trumence, 
"  was,  that  the  countess  seemed  to  consider  M.  Jacques 
guilty,  and  he  thought  she  was.  Each  accused  the 
other  of  the  crime.  She  said,  '  You  attempted  the 
life  of  my  husband,  because  you  were  afraid  of  him ! ' 
And  he  said,  '  You  wanted  to  kill  him,  so  as  to  be 
free,  and  to  prevent  my  marriage  ! ' ' 

M.  Galpin  had  sunk  into  a  chair:  he  stammered, — 
"  Did  anybody  ever  hear  such  a  thing  ?  " 
"  However,  they  explained ;  and  at  last  they  found 
out  that  they  were  both  of  them  innocent.  Then  M. 
Jacques  entreated  the  countess  to  save  him ;  and  she 
replied,  that  she  would  certainly  not  save  him  at  the 
expense  of  her  reputation,  and  so  enable  him,  as  soon 
as  he  was  free  once  more,  to  marry  Miss  Chandore. 
Then  he  said  to  her,  '  Well,  then  I  must  tell  all ; '  and 
she,  '  You  will  not  be  believed.  I  shall  deny  it  all, 
and  you  have  no  proof  ! '  In  his  despair,  he  reproached 
her  bitterly,  and  said  she  had  never  loved  him  at  all. 
Then  she  swore  she  loved  him  more  than  ever;  and 
that,  as  he  was  free  now,  she  was  ready  to  abandon 
every  thing,  and  to  escape  with  him  to  some  foreign 
country.  And  she  conjured  him  to  flee,  in  a  voice 
which  moved  my  heart,  with  loving  words  such  as  I 
have  never  heard  before  in  my  life,  and  with  looks 
which  seemed  to  be  burning  fire.  What  a  woman !  I 
did  not  think  he  could  possibly  resist.  And  yet  he 
did  resist;  and,  perfectly  beside  himself  with  anger, 
he  cried,  '  Rather  the  galleys ! '  Then  she  laughed, 
mocking  him,  and  saying,  '  Very  well,  you  shall  go  to 
the  galleys ! '  " 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     585 

Although  Trumence  entered  into  many  details,  it 
was  quite  evident  that  he  kept  back  many  things. 

Still  M.  Daubigeon  did  not  dare  question  him,  for 
fear  of  breaking  the  thread  of  his  account. 

"  But  that  was  nothing  at  all,"  said  the  vagrant. 
"  While  M.  Jacques  and  the  countess  were  quarrelling 
in  this  way,  I  saw  the  door  of  the  parlor  suddenly 
open  as  if  by  itself,  and  a  phantom  appear  in  it,  dressed 
in  a  funeral  pall.  It  was  Count  Claudieuse  himself. 
His  face  looked  terrible;  and  he  had  a  revolver  in  his 
hand.  He  was  leaning  against  the  side  of  the  door; 
and  he  listened  while  his  wife  and  M.  Jacques  were 
talking  of  their  former  love-affairs.  At  certain  words, 
he  would  raise  his  pistol  as  if  to  fire;  then  he  would 
lower  it  again,  and  go  on  listening.  It  was  so  awful, 
I  had  not  a  dry  thread  on  my  body.  It  was  very  hard 
not  to  cry  out  to  M.  Jacques  and  the  countess,  '  You 
poor  people,  don't  you  see  that  the  count  is  there  ? ' 
But  they  saw  nothing ;  for  they  were  both  beside  them- 
selves with  rage  and  despair:  and  at  last  M.  Jacques 
actually  raised  his  hand  to  strike  the  countess.  '  Do 
not  strike  that  woman ! '  suddenly  said  the  count. 
They  turn  round ;  they  see  him,  and  utter  a  fearful 
cry.  The  countess  fell  on  a  chair  as  if  she  were  dead. 
I  was  thunderstruck.  I  never  in  my  life  saw  a  man 
behave  so  beautifully  as  M.  Jacques  did  at  that  mo- 
ment. Instead  of  trying  to  escape,  he  opened  his  coat, 
and,  baring  his  breast,  he  said  to  the  husband,  '  Fire ! 
You  are  in  your  right ! '  The  count,  however,  laughed 
contemptuously,  and  said,  '  The  court  will  avenge  me ! ' 
— '  You  know  very  well  that  I  am  innocent.' — '  All 
the  better.' — '  It  would  be  infamous  to  let  me  be  con- 
demned.'— '  I  shall  do  more  than  that.  To  make  your 
condemnation  sure,  I  shall  say  that  I  recognized 


586     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

you.'  The  count  was  going  to  step  forward,  as  he 
said  this ;  but  he  was  dying.  Great  God,  what  a  man ! 
He  fell  forward,  lying  at  full-length  on  the  floor. 
Then  I  got  frightened,  and  ran  away." 

By  a  very  great  effort  only  could  the  commonwealth 
attorney  control  his  intense  excitement.  His  voice, 
however,  betrayed  him  as  he  asked  Trumence,  after 
a  solemn  pause, — 

"  Why  did  you  not  come  and  tell  us  all  that  at 
once  ?  " 

The  vagabond  shook  his  head,  and  said, — 

"  I  meant  to  do  so ;  but  I  was  afraid.  You  ought 
to  understand  what  I  mean.  I  was  afraid  I  might 
be  punished  very  severely  for  having  run  off." 

"  Your  silence  has  led  the  court  to  commit  a  griev- 
ous mistake." 

"  I  had  no  idea  M.  Jacques  would  be  found  guilty. 
Big  people  like  him,  who  can  pay  great  lawyers,  always 
get  out  of  trouble.  Besides,  I  did  not  think  Count 
Claudieuse  would  carry  out  his  threat.  To  be  be- 
trayed by  one's  wife  is  hard;  but  to  send  an  innocent 
man  to  the  galleys  " — 

"  Still  you  see  "— 

"  Ah,  if  I  could  have  foreseen !  My  intentions 
were  good ;  and  I  assure  you,  although  I  did  not  come 
at  once  to  denounce  the  whole  thing,  I  was  firmly 
resolved  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  if  M.  Jacques 
should  get  into  trouble.  And  the  proof  of  it  is,  that 
instead  of  running  off,  and  going  far  away,  I  very 
quietly  lay  concealed  at  the  Red  Lamb,  waiting  for  the 
sentence  to  be  published.  As  soon  as  I  heard  what 
was  done  last  night,  I  did  not  lose  an  hour,  and  sur- 
rendered at  once  to  the  gendarmes." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     587 

In  the  meantime  M.  Galpin  had  overcome  his  first 
amazement,  and  now  broke  out  furiously, — 

"  This  man  is  an  impostor.  The  money  he  showed 
us  was  paid  him  to  bear  false  witness.  How  can  we 
credit  his  story  ?  " 

"  We  must  investigate  the  matter,"  replied  M.  Dau- 
bigeon.  He  rang  the  bell ;  and,  when  the  usher  came 
in,  he  asked, — 

"  Have  you  done  what  I  told  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  man.  "  M.  de  Boiscoran 
and  the  servant  of  Count  Claudieuse  are  here." 

"  Bring  in  the  woman :  when  I  ring,  show  M.  de 
Boiscoran  in." 

This  woman  was  a  big  country-girl,  plain  of  face, 
and  square  of  figure.  She  seemed  to  be  very  much 
excited,  and  looked  crimson  in  her  face. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  asked  M.  Daubigeon,  "  that 
one  night  last  week  a  man  came  to  your  house,  and 
asked  to  see  your  mistress?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  replied  the  honest  girl.  "  I  did  not 
want  to  let  him  in  at  first;  but  he  said  he  came  from 
the  court,  and  then  I  let  him  in." 

"  Would  you  recognize  him  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

The  commonwealth  attorney  rang  again ;  the  door 
opened,  and  Jacques  came  in,  his  face  full  of  amaze- 
ment and  wonder. 

"  That  is  the  man !  "  cried  the  servant. 

"  May  I  know  ?  "  asked  the  unfortunate  man. 

"  Not  yet !  "  replied  M.  Daubigeon.  "  Go  back,  and 
be  of  good  hope !  " 

But  Jacques  remained  standing  where  he  was,  like 
a  man  who  has  suddenly  been  overcome,  looking  all 


588     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

around  with  amazed  eyes,  and  evidently  unable  to 
comprehend. 

How  could  he  have  comprehended  what  was  going 
on? 

They  had  taken  him  out  of  his  cell  without  warn- 
ing ;  they  had  carried  him  to  the  court-house ;  and 
here  he  was  confronted  with  Trumence,  whom  he 
thought  he  should  never  see  again,  and  with  the 
servant  of  the  Countess  Claudieuse. 

M.  Galpin  looked  the  picture  of  consternation;  and 
M.  Daubigeon,  radiant  with  delight,  bade  him  be  of 
good  hope. 

Hopeful  of  what?     How?    To  what  purpose? 

And  Mechinet  made  him  all  kinds  of  signs. 

The  usher  who  had  brought  him  in  had  actually 
to  take  him  out. 

Immediately  the  commonwealth  attorney  turned 
again  to  the  servant-girl  and  said, — 

"  Now,  my  good  girl,  can  you  tell  me  if  any  thing 
special  happened  in  connection  with  this  gentleman's 
visit  at  your  house  ?  " 

"  There  was  a  great  quarrel  between  him  and  master 
and  mistress." 

"  Were  you  present  ?  " 

"  No.    But  I  am  quite  certain  of  what  I  say." 

"How  so?" 

"  Well,  I  will  tell  you.  When  I  went  up  stairs  to 
tell  the  countess  that  there  was  a  gentleman  below 
who  came  from  the  courts,  she  was  in  a  great  hurry 
to  go  down,  and  told  me  to  stay  with  the  count,  my 
master.  Of  course,  I  did  what  she  said.  But  no 
sooner  was  she  down  than  I  heard  a  loud  cry.  Master, 
who  had  looked  all  in  a  stupor,  heard  it  too :  he  raised 
himself  on  his  pillow,  and  asked  me  where  my  mis- 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     589 

tress  was.  I  told  him,  and  he  was  just  settling  down 
to  try  and  fall  asleep  again,  when  the  sound  of  loud 
voices  came  up  to  us.  '  That  is  very  singular,'  said 
master.  I  offered  to  go  down  and  see  what  was  the 
matter:  but  he  told  me  sharply  not  to  stir  an  inch. 
And,  when  the  voices  became  louder  and  louder,  he 
said,  '  I  will  go  down  myself.  Give  me  my  dressing- 
gown.' 

"  Sick  as  he  was,  exhausted,  and  almost  on  his 
deathbed,  it  was  very  imprudent  in  him,  and  might 
easily  have  cost  him  his  life.  I  ventured  to  speak  to 
him ;  but  he  swore  at  me,  and  told  me  to  hush,  and  to 
do  what  he  ordered  me  to  do. 

"  The  count — God  be  merciful  to  his  soul ! — was  a 
very  good  man,  certainly ;  but  he  was  a  terrible  man 
also,  and  when  he  got  angry,  and  talked  in  a  certain 
way,  everybody  in  the  house  began  to  tremble,  even 
mistress. 

"  I  obeyed,  therefore,  and  did  what  he  wanted. 
Poor  man !  He  was  so  weak  he  could  hardly  stand 
up,  and  had  to  hold  on  to  a  chair  while  I  helped  him 
just  to  hang  his  dressing-gown  over  his  shoulders. 

"  Then  I  asked  him  if  he  would  not  let  me  help 
him  down.  But,  looking  at  me  with  awful  eyes,  he 
said,  '  You  will  do  me  the  favor  to  stay  here,  and, 
whatever  may  happen,  if  you  dare  so  much  as  open 
the  door  while  I  am  away,  you  shall  not  stay  another 
hour  in  my  service.' 

"  Then  he  went  out,  holding  on  to  the  wall ;  and  I 
remained  alone  in  the  chamber,  all  trembling,  and  feel- 
ing as  sick  as  if  I  had  known  that  a  great  misfor- 
tune was  coming  upon  us. 

"  However,  I  heard  nothing  more  for  a  time ;  and 
as  the  minutes  passed  away,  I  was  just  beginning  to 


5QO     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

reproach  myself  for  having  been  so  foolishly  alarmed, 
when  I  heard  two  cries ;  but,  O  sir !  two  such  fearful, 
sharp  cries,  that  I  felt  cold  shivers  running  all  over 
me. 

"  As  I  did  not  dare  leave  the  room,  I  put  my  ear  to 
the  door,  and  I  heard  distinctly  the  count's  voice,  as 
he  was  quarrelling  with  another  gentleman.  But  I 
could  not  catch  a  single  word,  and  only  made  out  that 
they  were  angry  about  a  very  serious  matter. 

"  All  of  a  sudden,  a  great  but  dull  noise,  like  that 
of  the  fall  of  a  heavy  body,  then  another  awful  cry. 
I  had  not  a  drop  of  blood  left  in  my  veins  at  that 
moment. 

"  Fortunately,  the  other  servants,  who  had  gone  to 
bed,  had  heard  something.  They  had  gotten  up,  and 
were  now  coming  down  the  passage. 

"  I  left  the  room  at  all  hazards,  and  went  down 
stairs  with  the  others,  and  there  we  found  my  mistress 
fainting  in  an  armchair,  and  my  master  stretched  out 
at  full-length,  lying  on  the  floor  like  a  dead  man." 

"  What  did  I  say  ?  "  cried  Trumence. 

But  the  commonwealth  attorney  made  him  a  sign 
to  keep  quiet;  and,  turning  again  to  the  girl,  he 
asked, — 

"And  the  visitor?" 

"  He  was  gone,  sir.    He  had  vanished." 

"What  did  you  do  then?" 

"  We  raised  up  the  count :  we  carried  him  up  stairs 
and  laid  him  on  his  bed.  Then  we  brought  mistress 
round  again ;  and  the  valet  went  in  haste  to  fetch  Dr. 
Seignebos." 

"  What  said  the  countess  when  she  recovered  her 
consciousness  ?  " 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE     591 

"  Nothing.  Mistress  looked  like  a  person  who  has 
been  knocked  in  the  head." 

"  Was  there  any  thing  else  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir !  " 

"What?" 

"  The  oldest  of  the  young  ladies,  Miss  Martha,  was 
seized  with  terrible  convulsions." 

"How  was  that?" 

"  Why,  I  only  know  what  miss  told  us  herself." 

"  Let  us  hear  what  she  said." 

"  Ah !  It  is  a  very  singular  story.  When  this  gen- 
tleman whom  I  have  just  seen  here  rang  the  bell  at 
our  gate,  Miss  Martha,  who  had  already  gone  to  bed, 
got  up  again,  and  went  to  the  window  to  see  who  it 
was.  She  saw  me  go  and  open,  with  a  candle  in  my 
hand,  and  come  back  again  with  that  gentleman  be- 
hind me.  She  was  just  going  to  bed  again,  when  she 
thought  she  saw  one»of  the  statues  in  the  garden  move, 
and  walk  right  off.  We  told  her  it  could  not  be  so; 
but  she  did  not  mind  us.  She  told  us  over  and  over 
again  that  she  was  quite  sure  that  she  saw  that  statue 
come  up  the  avenue,  and  take  a  place  behind  the  tree 
which  is  nearest  to  the  parlor-window." 

Trumence  looked  triumphant. 

"  That  was  I  ?  "  he  cried. 

The  girl  looked  at  him,  and  said,  only  moderately 
surprised, — 

"  That  may  very  well  be." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  it  ? "  asked  M.  Dau- 
bigeon. 

"  I  know  it  must  have  been  a  man  who  had  stolen 
into  the  garden,  and  who  had  frightened  Miss  Martha 
so  terribly,  because  Dr.  Seignebos  dropped,  in  going 
out,  a  five-franc  piece  just  at  the  foot  of  that  tree, 


592     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

where  miss  said  she  had  seen  the  man  standing.  The 
valet  who  showed  the  doctor  out  helped  him  look  for 
his  money;  and,  as  they  sought  with  the  candle,  they 
saw  the  footprints  of  a  man  who  wore  iron-shod 
shoes." 

"  The  marks  of  my  shoes ! "  broke  in  Trumence 
again ;  and  sitting  down,  and  raising  his  legs,  he  said 
to  the  magistrate, — 

"  Just  look  at  my  soles,  and  you  will  see  there  is  no 
lack  of  iron  nails  !  " 

But  there  was  no  need  for  such  evidence;  and  he 
was  told, — 

"  Never  mind  that !     We  believe  you." 

"  And  you,  my  good  girl,"  said  M.  Daubigeon  again, 
"  can  you  tell  us,  if,  after  these  occurrences,  Count 
Claudieuse  had  any  explanation  with  your  mistress  ?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not  know.  Only  I  saw  that  the  count 
and  the  countess  were  no  longer  as  they  used  to  be 
with  each  other." 

That  was  all  she  knew.  She  was  asked  to  sign 
her  deposition;  and  then  M.  Daubigeon  told  her  she 
might  go. 

Then,  turning  to  Trumence,  he  said, — 

"  You  will  be  taken  to  jail  now.  But  you  are  an 
honest  man,  and  you  need  not  give  yourself  any 
trouble.  Go  now." 

The  magistrate  and  the  commonwealth  attorney 
remained  alone  now,  since,  of  course,  a  clerk  counts 
for  nothing." 

"  Well,"  said  M.  Daubigeon,  "  what  do  you  think  of 
that?" 

M.  Galpin  was  dumfounded. 

"  It  is  enough  to  make  one  mad,"  he  murmured. 

"  Do  you  begin  to  see  now  that  M.  Folgat  was  right 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     593 

when  he  said  the  case  was  far  from  being  so  clear  as 
you  pretended  ?  " 

"  Ah !  who  would  not  have  been  deceived  as  I  was  ? 
You  yourself,  at  one  time  at  least,  were  of  my  opinion. 
And  yet,  if  the  Countess  Claudieuse  and  M.  de  Bois- 
coran  are  both  innocent,  who  is  the  guilty  one  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  we  shall  know  very  soon ;  for  I  am 
determined  I  will  not  allow  myself  a  moment's  rest 
till  I  have  found  out  the  truth  of  the  whole  matter. 
How  fortunate  it  was  that  this  fatal  error  in  form 
should  have  made  the  sentence  null  and  void !  " 

He  was  so  much  excited,  that  he  forgot  his  never- 
failing  quotations.  Turning  to  the  clerk,  he  said, — 

"  But  we  must  not  lose  a  minute.  Put  your  legs  into 
active  motion,  my  dear  Mechinet,  and  run  and  ask  M. 
Folgat  to  come  here.  I  will  wait  for  him  here." 


III. 


WHEN  Dionysia,  after  leaving  the  Countess  Claudi- 
euse, came  back  to  Jacques's  parents  and  his  friends, 
she  said,  radiant  with  hope, — 

"  Now  victory  is  on  our  side  !  " 

Her  grandfather  and  the  Marquis  de  Boiscoran 
urged  her  to  explain ;  but  she  refused  to  say  any  thing, 
and  only  later,  towards  evening,  she  confessed  to  M. 
Folgat  what  she  had  done  with  the  countess,  and  that 
it  was  more  than  probable  that  the  count  would,  before 
he  died,  retract  his  evidence. 

"  That  alone  would  save  Jacques,"  said  the  young  ad- 
vocate. 

But  this  hope  only  encouraged  him  to  make  still 


594     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

greater  efforts;  and,  all  overcome  as  he  was  by  his 
labors  and  the  emotions  of  the  trial,  he  spent  the  night 
in  Grandpapa  Chandore's  study,  preparing  with  M. 
Magloire  the  application  they  proposed  to  make  for  a 
new  trial. 

They  finished  only  when  it  was  already  broad  day- 
light :  so  he  did  not  care  to  go  to  bed,  and  installed  him- 
self in  a  large  easy-chair  for  the  purpose  of  getting  a 
few  hours'  rest. 

He  had,  however,  not  slept  more  than  an  hour,  when 
old  Anthony  roused  him  to  tell  him  that  there  was  an 
unknown  man  down  stairs  who  asked  to  see  him  in- 
stantly. 

M.  Folgat  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  at  once  went  down : 
in  the  passage  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  a 
man  of  some  fifty  years,  of  rather  suspicious  appear- 
ance, who  wore  his  mustache  and  his  chin-beard,  and 
was  dressed  in  a  tight  coat  and  large  trousers,  such  as 
old  soldiers  affect. 

"  You  are  M.  Folgat?  "  asked  this  man. 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  I — I  am  the  agent  whom  friend  Goudar  sent 
to  England." 

The  young  lawyer  started,  and  asked, — 

"  Since  when  are  you  here  ?  " 

"  Since  this  morning,  by  express.  Twenty- four  hours 
too  late,  I  know ;  for  I  bought  a  newspaper  at  the  sta- 
tion. M.  de  Boiscoran  has  been  found  guilty.  And 
yet  I  swear  I  did  not  lose  a  minute ;  and  I  have  well 
earned  the  gratuity  which  I  was  promised  in  case  of 
success." 

"  You  have  been  successful,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  Did  I  not  tell  you  in  my  letter  from 
Jersey  that  I  was  sure  of  success  ?  " 


WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     595 

"  You  have  found  Suky  ?  " 

"  Twenty-four  hours  after  I  wrote  to  you, — in  a  pub- 
lic-house at  Bonly  Bay.  She  would  not  come,  the 
wretch !  " 

"  You  have  brought  her,  however?  " 

"  Of  course.  She  is  at  the  Hotel  de  France,  where 
I  have  left  her  till  I  could  come  and  see  you." 

"  Does  she  know  any  thing?  " 

"  Every  thing." 

"  Make  haste  and  bring  her  here." 

From  the  time  when  M.  Folgat  first  hoped  for  this 
recovery  of  the  servant-girl,  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  make  the  most  of  her  evidence. 

He  had  slipped  a  portrait  of  the  Countess  Claudieuse 
into  an  album  of  Dionysia's,  amidst  some  thirty  photo- 
graphs. He  now  went  for  this  album,  and  had  just  put 
it  upon  the  centre-table  in  the  parlor,  when  the  agent 
came  ba-ck  with  his  captive. 

She  was  a  tall,  stout  woman  of  some  forty  years, 
with  hard  features,  masculine  manners,  and  dressed,  as 
all  common  English-women  are,  with  great  pretensions 
to  fashion. 

When  M.  Folgat  questioned  her,  she  answered  in 
very  fair,  intelligible  French,  which  was  only  marred 
by  her  strong  English  accent, — 

"  I  stayed  four  years  at  the  house  in  Vine  Street ;  and 
I  should  be  there  still,  but  for  the  war.  As  soon  as  I 
entered  upon  my  duties,  I  became  aware  that  I  was  put 
in  charge  of  a  house  in  which  two  lovers  had  their 
meetings.  I  was  not  exactly  pleased,  because,  you  know, 
we  have  our  self-respect;  but  it  was  a  good  place.  I 
had  very  little  to  do,  and  so  I  staid.  However,  my 
masters  mistrusted  me :  I  saw  that  very  clearly.  When 
a  meeting  was  to  take  place,  my  master  sent  me  on  some 


596     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

errand  to  Versailles,  to  Saint  Germain,  or  even  to  Or- 
leans. This  hurt  me  so  much,  that  I  determined  I 
would  find  out  what  they  tried  so  hard  to  conceal  from 
me.  It  was  not  very  difficult ;  and  the  very  next  week 
I  knew  that  my  master  was  no  more  Sir  Francis  Bur- 
nett than  I  was;  and  that  he  had  borrowed  the  name 
from  a  friend  of  his." 

"  How  did  you  go  about  to  find  it  out  ?  " 

"  Oh !  very  simply.  One  day,  when  my  master  went 
away  on  foot,  I  followed  him,  and  saw  him  go  into  a 
house  in  University  Street.  Before  the  house  opposite, 
some  servants  were  standing  and  talking.  I  asked  them 
who  that  gentleman  was ;  and  they  told  me  it  was  the 
son  of  the  Marquis  de  Boiscoran." 

"  So  much  for  your  master ;  but  the  lady." 

Suky  Wood  smiled. 

"  As  for  the  lady,"  she  replied,  "  I  did  the  same  thing 
to  find  her  out.  It  cost  me,  however,  a  great  deal  more 
time  and  a  great  deal  more  patience,  because  she  took 
the  very  greatest  precautions ;  and  I  lost  more  than  one 
afternoon  in  watching  her.  But,  the  more  she  tried 
to  hide,  the  more  I  was  curious  to  know,  as  a  matter  of 
course.  At  last,  one  evening  when  she  left  the  house 
in  her  carriage,  I  took  a  cab  and  followed  her.  I 
traced  her  thus  to  her  house;  and  next  morning  I 
talked  to  the  servants  there,  and  they  told  me  that  she 
was  a  lady  who  lived  in  the  province,  but  came  every 
year  to  Paris  to  spend  a  month  with  her  parents,  and 
that  her  name  was  Countess  Claudieuse." 

And  Jacques  had  imagined  and  strongly  maintained 
that  Suky  would  not  know  any  thing,  in  fact,  could  not 
know  any  thing ! 

"  But  did  you  ever  see  this  lady  ?  "  asked  M.  Folgat. 

"  As  well  as  I  see  you." 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     597 

"  Would  you  recognize  her  ?  " 

"  Among  thousands." 

"  And  if  you  saw  her  portrait?  " 

"  I  should  know  it  at  once." 

M.  Folgat  handed  her  the  album. 

"  Well,  look  for  her,"  he  said. 

She  had  found  the  likeness  in  a  moment. 

"  Here  she  is !  "  cried  Suky,  putting  her  finger  on 
the  photograph. 

There  was  no  doubt  any  longer. 

"  But  now,  Miss  Suky,"  said  the  young  advocate, 
"  you  will  have  to  repeat  all  that  before  a  magistrate." 

"  I  will  do  so  with  pleasure.  It  is  the  truth." 

"  If  that  is  so,  they  will  send  for  you  at  your  lodg- 
ings, and  you  will  please  stay  there  till  you  are  called. 
.You  need  not  trouble  yourself  about  any  thing.  You 
shall  have  whatever  you  want,  and  they  will  pay  you 
your  wages  as  if  you  were  in  service." 

M.  Folgat  had  not  time  to  say  any  more;  for  Dr. 
Seignebos  rushed  in  like  a  tempest,  and  cried  out  at 
the  top  of  his  voice, — 

"  Victory !  We  are  victorious  now  !  Great  victory !  " 

But  he  could  not  speak  before  Suky  and  the  agent. 
They  were  sent  off;  and,  as  soon  as  they  had  left  the 
room,  he  said  to  M.  Folgat, — 

"  I  am  just  from  the  hospital.  I  have  seen  Goudar. 
He  has  done  it.  He  has  made  Cocoleu  talk." 

"  And  what  does  he  say  ?  " 

"  Well,  exactly  what  I  knew  he  would  say,  as  soon  as 
they  could  loose  his  tongue.  But  you  will  hear  it  all ; 
for  it  is  not  enough  that  Cocoleu  should  confess  it  to 
Goudar:  there  must  be  witnesses  present  to  certify  to 
the  confessions  of  the  wretch." 


5Q8     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  He  will  not  talk  before  witnesses." 

"  He  must  not  see  them :  they  can  be  concealed.  The 
place  is  admirably  adapted  for  such  a  purpose." 

"  But  how,  if  Cocoleu  refuses  to  talk  after  the  wit- 
nesses have  been  introduced  ?  " 

"  He  will  not.  Goudar  has  found  out  a  way  to  make 
him  talk  whenever  he  wants  it.  Ah !  that  man  is  a 
clever  man,  and  understands  his  business  thoroughly. 
Have  you  full  confidence  in  him  ?  " 

"Oh,  entire!" 

"  Well,  he  says  he  is  sure  he  will  succeed.  '  Come 
to-day,'  he  said  to  me,  '  between  one  and  two,  with  M. 
Folgat,  the  commonwealth  attorney,  and  M.  Galpin: 
put  yourself  where  I  will  show  you,  and  then  let  me 
go  to  work.'  Then  he  showed  me  the  place  where  he 
wants  us  to  remain,  and  told  me  how  we  should  let  him 
know  when  we  are  all  ready." 

M.  Folgat  did  not  hesitate. 

"  We  have  not  a  moment  to  lose.  Let  us  go  at 
once  to  the  court-house." 

But  they  were  hardly  in  the  passage  when  they  were 
met  by  Mechinet,  who  came  running  up  out  of  breath, 
and  half  mad  with  delight. 

"  M.  Daubigeon  sends  me  to  say  you  must  come  to 
him  at  once.  Great  news !  Great  news !  " 

And  immediately  he  told  them  in  a  few  words  what 
had  happened  in  the  morning, — Trumence's  statement, 
and  the  deposition  of  the  maid  of  Countess  Claudieuse. 

"  Ah,  now  we  are  safe !  "  cried  Dr.  Seignebos. 

M.  Folgat  was  pale  with  excitement.  Still  he  pro- 
posed,— 

"  Let  us  tell  the  marquis  and  Miss  Dionysia  what 
is  going  on  before  we  leave  the  house." 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     599 

"  No,"  said  the  doctor,  "  no !  Let  us  wait  till  every 
thing  is  quite  safe.  Let  us  go  quick ;  let  us  go  at  once." 

They  were  right  to  make  haste.  The  magistrate  and 
the  commonwealth  attorney  were  waiting  for  them  with 
the  greatest  impatience.  As  soon  as  they  came  into  the 
small  room  of  the  clerk's  office,  M.  Daubigeon  cried, — 

"  Well,  I  suppose  Mechinet  has  told  you  all  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  M.  Folgat ;  "  but  we  have  some  in- 
formation of  which  you  have  heard  as  yet  nothing." 

Then  he  told  them  that  Suky  Wood  had  arrived,  and 
what  she  had  given  in  as  evidence. 

M.  Galpin  had  sunk  into)  ja  chair,  completely  crushed 
by  the  weight  of  so  many  proofs  of  his  misapprehen- 
sion of  the  case.  There  he  sat  without  saying  a  word, 
without  moving  a  muscle.  But  M.  Daubigeon  was 
radiant. 

"  Most  assuredly,"  he  cried,  "  Jacques  must  be  inno- 
cent!" 

"  Most  assuredly  he  is  innocent !  "  said  Dr.  Seigne- 
bos ;  "  and  the  proof  of  it  is,  that  I  know  who  is  guilty." 

"Oh!" 

"  And  you  will  know  too,  if  you  will  take  the  trouble 
of  following  me,  with  M.  Galpin,  to  the  hospital." 

It  was  just  striking  one ;  and  not  one  of  them  all  had 
eaten  any  thing  that  morning.  But  they  had  no  time 
to  think  of  breakfast. 

Without  a  shadow  of  hesitation,  M.  Daubigeon 
turned  to  M.  Galpin,  and  said, — 

"  Will  you  come,  Galpin  ?  " 

The  poor  magistrate  rose  mechanically,  after  the 
manner  of  an  automaton,  and  they  went  out,  creating 
no  small  sensation  among  the  good  people  of  Sauve- 
terre,  when  they  appeared  thus  all  in  a  group. 


600     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

M.  Daubigeon  spoke  first  to  the  lady  superior  of  the 
hospital ;  and,  when  he  had  explained  to  her  what  their 
purpose  was  in  coming  there,  she  raised  her  eyes 
heavenward,  and  said  with  a  sigh  of  resignation, — 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  do  as  you  like,  and  I  hope  you 
will  be  successful ;  for  it  is  a  sore  trial  for  us  poor 
sisters  to  have  these  continual  visitations  in  the  name 
of  the  law." 

"  Please  follow  me,  then,  to  the  Insane  Ward,  gen- 
tlemen," said  the  doctor. 

They  call  the  Insane  Ward  at  the  Sauveterre  hospi- 
tal a  small,  low  building,  with  a  sanded  court  in  front, 
and  a  tall  wall  around  the  whole.  This  building  is 
divided  into  six  cells,  each  of  which  has  two  doors, — 
one  opening  into  the  court,  and  the  other  an  outside 
door  for  the  assistants  and  servants. 

It  was  to  one  of  these  latter  doors  that  Dr.  Seigne- 
bos  led  his  friends.  And  after  having  recommended  to 
them  the  most  perfect  silence,  so  as  not  to  rouse  Coco- 
leu's  suspicions,  he  invited  them  into  one  of  the  cells, 
in  which  the  door  leading  into  the  court  had  been 
closed.  There  was,  however,  a  little  grated  window  in 
the  upper  part  of  the  door,  so  that  they  could,  without 
being  seen,  both  see  and  hear  all  that  was  said  and 
done  in  the  court  reserved  for  the  use  of  the  insane. 

Not  two  yards  from  the  little  window,  Goudar  and 
Cocoleu  were  sitting  on  a  wooden  bench  in  the  bright 
sunlight. 

By  long  study  and  a  great  effort  of  will,  Goudar  had 
succeeded  in  giving  to  his  face  a  most  perfect  expres- 
sion of  stupidity :  even  the  people  belonging  to  the  hos- 
pital thought  he  was  more  idiotic  than  the  other. 

He  held  in  his  hand  his  violin,  which  the  doctor  had 


WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     601 

ordered  to  be  left  to  him ;  and  he  accompanied  himself 
with  a  few  notes,  as  he  repeated  the  same  familiar  song 
which  he  had  sung  on  the  New-Market  Square  when 
he  first  accosted  M.  Folgat. 

Cocoleu,  a  large  piece  of  bread-and-butter  in  one 
hand,  and  a  big  clasp-knife  in  the  other,  was  finishing 
his  meal. 

But  this  music  delighted  him  so  intensely,  that  he  ac- 
tually forgot  to  eat,  and,  with  hanging  lip  and  half- 
closed  eyes,  rocked  himself  to  and  fro,  keeping  time 
with  the  measure. 

"  They  look  hideous !  "  M.  Folgat  could  not  keep 
from  whispering.  In  the  meantime  Goudar,  warned 
by  the  preconcerted  signal,  had  finished  his  song.  He 
bent  over,  and  drew  from  under  the  bench  an  enormous 
bottle,  from  which  he  seemed  to  draw  a  considerable 
quantity  of  something  pleasant. 

Then  he  passed  it  to  Cocoleu,  who  likewise  began  to 
pull,  eagerly  and  long,  and  with  an  expression  of  idiotic 
beatitude.  Then  patting  his  stomach  with  his  hands, 
he  said, — 

"  That's— that's— that's— good !  " 

M.  Daubigeon  whispered  into  Dr.  Seignebos'  ear, — 

"  Ah,  I  begin  to  see !  I  notice  from  Cocoleu's  eyes, 
that  this  practice  with  the  bottle  must  have  been  going 
on  for  some  time  already.  Cocoleu  is  drunk/' 

Goudar  again  took  up  his  violin  and  repeated  his 
song. 

"  I — I — want — want  to — to  drink !  "  stammered 
Cocoleu. 

Goudar  kept  him  waiting  a  little  while,  and  then 
handed  him  the  bottle.  The  idiot  threw  back  his  head, 
and  drank  till  he  had  lost  his  breath.  Then  Goudar 
asked, — 


6o2     WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE 

"  Ah !  you  did  not  have  such  good  wine  to  drink  at 
Valpinson  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  replied  Cocoleu. 

"  But  as  much  as  you  wanted  ?  " 

"  Yes.    Quite — enough." 

And,  laughing  with  some  difficulty,  he  stammered, 
and  stuttered  out,  — 

"  I  got — got  into  the  cellar  through  one  of  the  win- 
dows; and  I  drank — drank  through — through  a — a 
straw." 

"  You  must  be  sorry  you  are  no  longer  there  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes!" 

"  But,  if  you  were  so  well  off  at  Valpinson,  why  did 
you  set  it  on  fire  ?  " 

The  witnesses  of  this  strange  scene  crowded  to  the 
little  window  of  the  cell,  and  held  their  breath  with 
eager  expectation. 

"  I  wanted  to  burn  some  fagots  only,  to  make  the 
count  come  out.  It  was  not  my  fault,  if  the  whole 
house  got  on  fire." 

"  And  why  did  you  want  to  kill  the  count  ?  " 

"  Because  I  wanted  the  great  lady  to  marry  M.  de 
Boiscoran." 

"  Ah !    She  told  you  to  do  it,  did  she  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  But  she  cried  so  much  ;  and  then  she  told 
me  she  would  be  so  happy  if  her  husband  were  dead. 
And  she  was  always  good  to  Cocoleu ;  and  the  count 
was  always  bad ;  and  so  I  shot  him." 

"  Well !  But  why,  then,  did  you  say  it  was  M.  de 
Boiscoran  who  shot  the  count  ?  " 

"  They  said  at  first  it  was  me.  I  did  not  like  that. 
I  would  rather  they  should  cut  off  his  head  than  mine." 

He  shuddered  as  he  said  this,  so  that  Goudar,  afraid 
of  having  gone  rather  too  fast,  took  up  his  violin,  and 


IT  WAS  NOT  MY  FAULT,  IF  THE   WHOLE  HOUSE  GOT  ON   FIRE 


WITHIN   AN    INCH    OF   HIS    LIFE     603 

gave  him  a  verse  of  his  song  to  quiet  him.  Then  ac- 
companying- his  words  still  now  and  then  with  a  few 
notes,  and  after  having  allowed  Cocoleu  to  caress  his 
bottle  once  more,  he  asked  again, — 

"  Where  did  you  get  a  gun  ?  " 

"  I — I  had  taken  it  from  the  count  to  shoot  birds : 
and  I — I  have  it  still — still.  It  is  hid  in  the  hole  where, 
Michael  found  me." 

Poor  Dr.  Seignebos  could  not  stand  it  any  longer. 
He  suddenly  pushed  open  the  door,  and,  rushing  into, 
the  court,  he  cried, — 

"  Bravo,  Goudar !  well  done !  " 

At  the  noise,  Cocoleu  had  started  up.  He  evidently 
understood  it  all ;  for  terror  drove  the  fumes  of  the 
wine  out  of  his  mind  in  an  instant,  and  he  looked 
frightened  to  death. 

"  Ah,  you  scoundrel !  "  he  howled. 

And,  throwing  himself  upon  Goudar,  he  plunged  his 
knife  twice  into  him. 

The  movement  was  so  rapid  and  so  sudden,  that  it 
had  been  impossible  to  prevent  it.  Pushing  M.  Folgat 
violently  back  as  he  tried  to  disarm  him,  Cocoleu 
leaped  into  a  corner  of  the  court,  and  there,  looking 
like  a  wild  beast  driven  to  bay,  his  eyes  bloodshot,  his 
mouth  foaming,  he  threatened  with  his  formidable 
knife  to  kill  any  one  who  should  come  near  him. 

At  the  cries  of  M.  Daubigeon  and  M.  Galpin,  the  as- 
sistants in  the  hospital  came  rushing  in.  The  struggle, 
however,  would  probably  have  been  a  long  one,  not- 
withstanding their  numbers,  if  one  of  the  keepers  had 
not,  with  great  presence  of  mind,  climbed  up  to  the  top 
of  the  wall,  and  caught  the  arm  of  the  wretch  in  a 
noose.  By  these  means  he  was  thrown  down  in  a  mo- 
ment, disarmed,  and  rendered  harmless. 


6o4     WITHIN   AN   INCH   OF   HIS   LIFE 

"  You — you  may — may  do — do  what  you — you 
choose ;  I — I  won't  say — say  another  w-w-word !  " 

In  the  meantime,  poor  Dr.  Seignebos,  who  had  un- 
willingly caused  the  catastrophe,  was  distressed  be- 
yond measure ;  still  he  hastened  to  the  assistance  of 
Goudar,  who  lay  insensible  on  the  sand  of  the  court. 
The  two  wounds  which  the  detective  had  received 
were  quite  serious,  but  not  fatal,  nor  even  very  dan- 
gerous, as  the  knife  had  been  turned  aside  by  the  ribs. 
He  was  at  once  carried  into  one  of  the  private  rooms  of 
the  hospital,  and  soon  recovered  his  consciousness. 

When  he  saw  all  four  of  the  gentlemen  bending 
anxiously  over  his  bed,  he  murmured  with  a  mournful 
smile, — 

"  Well,  was  I  not  right  when  I  said  that  my  pro- 
fession is  a  rascally  profession  ?  " 

"  But  you  are  at  liberty  now  to  give  it  up,"  replied 
M.  Folgat,  "  provided  always  a  certain  house  in  Vine 
Street  should  not  prove  too  small  for  your  ambition." 

The  pale  face  of  the  detective  recovered  its  color 
for  a  moment. 

"  Will  they  really  give  it  to  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Since  you  have  discovered  the  real  criminal,  and 
handed  him  over  to  justice." 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  bless  these  wounds :  I  feel  that  I 
shall  be  up  again  in  a  fortnight.  Give  me  quick  pen 
and  ink,  that  I  may  write  my  resignation  immediately, 
and  tell  my  wife  the  good  news." 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  one  of  the 
officers  of  the  court,  who,  walking  up  to  the  common- 
wealth attorney,  said  to  him  respectfully, — 

"  Sir,  the  priest  from  Brechy  is  waiting  for  you  at 
your  office." 

"  I  am  coming  directly,"  replied  M.  Daubigeon. 


WITHIN    AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE     605 

And,  turning  to  his  companions,  he  said, — 

"  Let  us  go,  gentlemen." 

The  priest  was  waiting,  and  rose  quickly  from  his 
chair  when  he  saw  M.  Daubigeon  enter,  accompanied 
by  M.  Galpin,  M.  Folgat,  and  Dr.  Seignebos. 

"  Perhaps  you  wish  to  speak  to  me  alone,  sir  ?  "  asked 
M.  Daubigeon. 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  the  old  priest,  "  no !  The  words 
of  reparation  which  have  been  intrusted  to  me  must  be 
uttered  publicly."  And,  handing  him  a  letter,  he 
added, — 

"  Read  this.    Please  read  it  aloud." 
The  commonwealth  attorney  tore  the  envelope  with 
a  tremulous  hand,  and  then  read, — 

"  Being  about  to  die  as  a  Christian,  as  I  have  lived  as 
a  Christian,  I  owe  it  to  myself,  I  owe  it  to  God  whom 
I  have  offended,  and  I  owe  it  to  those  men  whom  I 
have  deceived,  to  declare  the  truth. 

"  Actuated  by  hatred,  I  have  been  guilty  of  giving 
false  evidence  in  court,  and  of  stating  wrongfully  that 
M.  de  Boiscoran  is  the  man  who  shot  at  me,  and  that  I 
recognized  him  in  the  act. 

"  I  did  not  only  not  recognize  him,  but  I  know  that 
he  is  innocent.  I  am  sure  of  it ;  and  I  swear  it  by  all 
I  hold  sacred  in  this  world  which  I  am  about  to  leave, 
and  in  that  world  in  which  I  must  appear  before  my 
sovereign  Judge. 

"  May  M.  de  Boiscoran  pardon  me  as  I  pardon  my- 
self. TRIVULCE  COUNT  CLAUDIEUSE." 

"  Poor  man !  "  murmured  M.  Folgat. 

The  priest  at  once  went  on, — 

"  You  see,  gentlemen,  Count  Claudieuse  withdraws 
his  charge  unconditionally.  He  asks  for  nothing  in 
return :  he  only  wants  the  truth  to  be  established.  And 
yet  I  beg  leave  to  express  the  last  wishes  of  a  dying 


6o6     WITHIN    AN    INCH    OF    HIS    LIFE 

man.  I  beseech  you,  in  the  new  trial,  to  make  no  men- 
tion of  the  name  of  the  countess." 

Tears  were  seen  in  all  eyes. 

"  You  may  rest  assured,  reverend  father,"  said  M. 
Daubigeon,  "  that  Count  Claudieuse's  last  wishes  shall 
be  attended  to.  The  name  of  the  countess  shall  not 
appear.  There  will  be  no  need  for  it.  The  secret  of 
her  wrongs  shall  be  religiously  kept  by  those  who 
know  it." 

It  was  four  o'clock  now. 

An  hour  later  there  arrived  at  the  court-house  a 
gendarme  and  Michael,  the  son  of  the  Boiscoran  tenant, 
who  had  been  sent  out  to  ascertain  if  Cocoleu's  state- 
ment was  true.  They  brought  back  the  gun  which  the 
wretch  had  used,  and  which  he  had  concealed  in  that 
den  which  he  had  dug  out  for  himself  in  the  forest  of 
Rochepommier,  and  where  Michael  had  discovered  him 
the  day  after  the  crime. 

Henceforth  Jacques's  innocence  was  as  clear  as  day- 
light; and  although  he  had  to  bear  the  burden  of  his 
sentence  till  the  judgment  was  declared  void,  it  was 
decided,  with  the  consent  of  the  president  of  the  court, 
M.  Domini,  and  the  activ6  cooperation  of  M.  Gransiere, 
that  he  should  be  set  free  that  same  evening. 

M.  Folgat  and  M.  Magloire  were  charged  with  the 
pleasant  duty  of  informing  the  prisoner  of  this  happy 
news.  They  found  him  walking  up  and  down  in  his 
cell  like  a  madman,  devoured  by  unspeakable  anguish, 
and  not  knowing  what  to  make  of  the  words  of  hope 
which  M.  Daubigeon  had  spoken  to  him  in  the  morning. 

He  was  hopeful,  it  is  true ;  and  yet  when  he  was  told 
that  he  was  safe,  that  he  was  free,  he  sank,  an  inert 
mass,  into  a  chair,  being  less  able  to  bear  joy  than 
sorrow. 


607 

But  such  emotions  are  not  apt  to  last  long-.  A  few 
moments  later,  and  Jacques  de  Boiscoran,  arm  in  arm 
with  his  counsel,  left  this  prison,  in  which  he  had  for 
several  months  suffered  all  that  an  honest  man  can 
suffer.  He  had  paid  a  fearful  penalty  for  what,  in  the 
eyes  of  so  many  men,  is  but  a  trifling-  wrong. 

When  they  reached  the  street  in  which  the  Chandores 
lived,  M.  Folgat  said  to  his  client, — 

"  They  do  not  expect  you,  I  am  sure.  Go  slowly, 
while  I  go  ahead  to  prepare  them." 

He  found  Jacques's  parents  and  friends  assembled  in 
the  parlor,  suffering  great  anxiety;  for  they  had  not 
been  able  to  ascertain  if  there  were  any  truth  in  the 
vague  rumors  which  had  reached  them. 

The  young  advocate  employed  the  utmost  caution 
in  preparing  them  for  the  truth ;  but  at  the  first  words 
Dionysia  asked, — 

"  Where  is  Jacques  ?  " 

Jacques  was  kneeling  at  her  feet,  overcome  with 
gratitude  and  love. 


V. 


THE  next  day  the  funeral  of  Count  Claudieuse  took 
place.  His  youngest  daughter  was  buried  at  the  same 
time ;  and  in  the  evening  the  Countess  left  Sauveterre, 
to  make  her  home  henceforth  with  her  father  in  Paris. 

In  the  proper  course  of  the  law,  the  sentence  which 
condemned  Jacques  was  declared  null  and  void;  and 
Cocoleu,  found  guilty  of  having  committed  the  crime  at 
Valpinson,  was  sentenced  to  hard  labor  for  life. 


608     WITHIN   AN    INCH   OF   HIS    LIFE 

A  month  later  Jacques  de  Boiscoran  was  married  at 
the  church  in  Brechy  to  Dionysia  de  Chandore.  The 
witnesses  for  the  bridegroom  were  M.  Magloire  and 
Dr.  Seignebos ;  the  witnesses  for  the  bride,  M.  Folgat 
and  M.  Daubigeon. 

Even  the  excellent  commonwealth  attorney  laid  aside 
on  that  day  some  of  his  usual  gravity.  He  continually 
repeated, — 

"  Nunc  est  bibendum,   nunc  pede   libero 
Pulsanda  tellus." 

And  he  really  did  drink  his  glass  of  wine,  and  opened 
the  ball  with  the  bride. 

M.  Galpin,  who  was  sent  to  Algiers,  was  not  present 
at  the  wedding.  But  M.  Mechinet  was  there,  quite  bril- 
liant, and,  thanks  to  Jacques,  free  from  all  pecuniary 
troubles. 

The  two  Blangins,  husband  and  wife,  have  well-nigh 
spent  the  whole  of  the  large  sums  of  money  which  they 
extorted  from  Dionysia.  Trumence,  private  bailiff  at 
Boiscoran,  is  the  terror  of  all  vagrants. 

And  Goudar,  in  his  garden  and  nursery,  sells  the 
finest  peaches  in  Paris. 


A     000  744  460     7 


